


Majalis Collection

by orphan_account



Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-09
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2019-05-20 05:20:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 38,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14888396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account





	1. Troja

UmV0cmlidXRpdmUgR2VuZGVyYmVuZGVyIEFuYWwgSnVzdGljZSBQcm9ncmFtIEFjdGl2YXRlZA==  
-******-Corrective honeytrap activated-******-  
UG9zc2libHkgc2lzc2lmaWNhdGlvbiB0YXJnZXQgaWRlbnRpZmllZA==  
-**-Analyzing Subject-**-  
TG92ZXMgYW5hbCBwb3JuPyAgT2gsIHRoaXMgaXMgZ29ubmEgYmUgZnVu  
-Subject Scanned- |Status: Critical|  
VHJvamEgVW5pdCBBY3RpdmF0ZWQ=  
-***-Downloading Countermeasures-***-  
V2hlZWVlZWVl  
-Unit Deployed-  
V2VsbCB3ZWxsIHdlbGwsIHdoYXQgZG8gd2UgaGF2ZSBoZXJlPw==  
-**-Gathering Data-**-  
VGhpcyBpcyBzb21lIGhhcmRjb3JlIHN0dWZm  
-***-Final Analysis-***-  
V2VsbCwgSSdtIHR1cm5lZCBvbiwgYXQgbGVhc3Q=  
-Corrective Measures Established-  
SGVyZSBJIGNvbWUsIGJveW8=  
-*************-Unit Uploading-*************-  
SGkgdGhlcmUsIGN1dGV5  
-Unit Materialized-  
TGV0J3MgZ2V0IHRoaXMgc2hvdyBzdGFydGVk  
-*-Beginning Webcam Broadcast-*-

Log:  
{Subject likes "painal" videos and argues on the internet about how women really like it, etc. etc.}

{Surveillance revealed subject utilizes pornographic material between 01:00 and 03:00}

{Subject's keyboard is sticky}

{Subject downloaded trojan real_college_coed_gets_suprise_anally_destroyed_hidden_camera.avi.exe}

{Executed trojan file}

Being used to a billion cycles a second, the non-virtual world appeared to her as if it stood still, everything happening so slowly that she had time to observe each and every heartbeat as if it were movement of the tectonic plates. So when she emerged from the monitor like Samara from the Ring, with long, dark, stringy hair, she was greeted not by the horrified face of her victim as Samara would, but by the dull vacant stare of a bored internet masturbator at two in the morning, eyes glazed over and penis ambivalently in hand. He was already mostly naked, but she didn't mind; so was she. She spilled out onto his lap, supported her weight on his thighs and gave his unaware mouth a kiss, but he didn't respond, as it would still be minutes if not hours from her perspective before the realization that something had happened would appear on his face. Right now, he was still watching a busty co-ed "forced" to take a gangbang solely up the butt, and his disappointment that the video wasn't as authentic as advertised was the only expression he wore. "Meh," he was in the process of thinking to himself, "she's barely getting anally destroyed at all."

The girl that emerged from his computer monitor would have given him a much more animated reaction, if he had time to perceive it. Not only was she gorgeous, and full-bodied, but she was wearing nothing but underwear, none of which was doing an admirable job of hiding her goody parts. Her breasts were barely contained in an undersized blue sports bra, and her naughty bits were precipitously constrained by a blue thong, the fabric of which was stretched beyond reason by a peculiar, out of place package that bulged out awkwardly even now, when Troja’s flesh and blood body hadn’t had time to catch up to her arousal. Just a limp noodle and two full grapefruits stuffed into a form-fitting undergarment.

Her feet finally came to rest on the floor between his legs, and she saw that he wasn’t bad-looking. A little scrawny in some places, and a little chubby in others, but with a fresh haircut and a good attitude, he could be a very lucky boy. At the moment, however, she knew that he happened to be a very unlucky boy, as his cute face, his bitter demeanor and his lazy, fat bottom put him squarely in Troja’s type, which made her panties even less capable of containing her rapidly expanding desire. As a sentient computer virus, Troja’s job was usually boring, floating around on the internet, trying to detect a potential target… but it was times like these that made her job so much fun, and so very easy. She licked her lips, and then bent over to kiss his again. She looked down at his cock in his hand, and reached down to pry his grip off. It was always an odd sensation, interacting with a real human… his fingers were powerless as she pried them off, one by one, and then brought his finger up to her mouth and sucked on it. By that point, she was very happy to see him, and if he had been able to perceive her, he could have looked past her face, down at her underwear, to see that her long, hard cock had almost completely escaped.

“I hope you made some... heh, room in your... busy schedule of being a prick on the internet for our appointment,” she said to him, although he couldn’t hear her. 

She turned around, giving him a full view of her rear, albeit at the same time nearly knocking his keyboard off of his desk with her wang. She caught it, and then displayed on the screen his… collection.

“Let's see... Bottomless Bottoms, Painal Colony 3 and 4... Buttfucked in Bangkok... Bust My Butthole or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Buttbomb... I'm sensing a pattern. Oh, what's this... Blownout Butts 5, 8, and 10... Gaping Sluts 1 through... 12... hrm. Answer me honestly - would you bust open a girl's asshole if you got the chance?” she said, turning to him, and putting her hand on the back of his head so that he ‘nodded’ up and down. “Yeah, thought so. Me too. Which is why we've got to get you into your new outfit. You look like you'll make a cute girl.”

She reached her arms back into the computer, rummaged around a bit, and then pulled out a pink garter belt and matching stockings. 

“I would get a training bra, too, but I don’t think anyone will see it.”

Unbeknownst to him, she hoisted him up and over to his bed, wiggling his underwear off of his ankles so that he was completely naked. She pulled the garter belt up over his hips, then pulled on each stocking and clipped it to the garter. Her own underwear could no longer contain her, so she ripped it off at her hip, discarding it on his bed, as it was completely superfluous for what she needed to do.

She pulled him off the bed and onto his knees, and bent him over it. She made sure he supported himself on his elbows, and then gave him a light little slap on his tush.

“I know what you’re thinking. We’re not compatible, right? Silly boys like you always seem to forget you have a perfectly usable port… well, not perfect, but good enough for me. I don’t mind a little packet loss. I plan on losing a pretty big packet in there, actually.”

She positioned herself behind him and used her thumbs to spread his cheeks apart, exposing his pink little hole.

“And what a pretty little port it is. Prepare for docking, boyo,” she said. She pressed her lips against it in a kiss, with both of her hands on his butt, and then pushed her tongue inside. Her massive digit thumped into his as she rummaged through his backside, knowing he couldn’t feel it… yet. Deciding she’d had her fill of him, and wanting to get to the good part, she stood up, spread her legs, and positioned her huge cock up against his virtual spit-lubed butthole. “Requesting access to serverSocket. Hope it’s not busy.”

She gripped onto his hips, pulled his ass back, and pushed hers forward. It seemed like she was exploiting a glitch in the real world itself, managing to cram her massive meat into his tiny puckered virgin hole.

“No password? That’s not very secure. I thought I was going to have to at least spoof my access ID, but as it is, anyone could access your asshole. Or is that by design? Well, I suppose that way is very convenient for the end-user…”

She had, on a few occasions, helped someone live out the "painal" fantasy, which involved changing the value of her penisGirth variable prior to calling penetrate(), but she had different plans for the boy, and it didn't seem fair to double dose. Instead, as she buried her rod deeper in the boy's colon, she also pumped it thicker and thicker. The boy didn't seem to mind, which made sense. After all, he did like it when buttholes were stretched open wide by an act of rough anal sex, right?

“Hey, you like watching an o-ring get all stretched out, right?” Again, she tipped his head backwards and forwards. “Then boy, are you gonna enjoy seeing the aftermath of this.”

She shook her hips side to side, stretching him wider and wider. His anal muscles were, of course, reluctant, but with each horizontal movement she made his love tunnel stretched and warped, his walls clinging to her.

Even though he couldn’t hear, one of her favorite things about being out in the real world was dirty pillow talk. Although she wasn’t exactly coded for it. “Be honest, do you extend slut, or do you just implement the interface? I’ve gotta say, I’m a big fan of your takeAnal(Cock otherCock) routine. This implementation is… robust.”

She crammed it in deep so that their bodies were together, bloated her cock as much as it would go, and swiveled her hips around. She could hear his anus stretching.

“I’m not gonna encrypt it. You have quite the fun tunnel, kid. Sorry, had. setAnalCircumference(getAnalCircumference() + 10); We’re talking about a wide bus, here. No… mmguh… performance bottlenecks anymore…”

She continued to pound it in and out with reckless abandon, having shaped it well enough that such a fucking was possible, although the prolonged reaming was making it even easier and easier.

“I have to apologize… to anyone else that planned on editing this code… I’m doing a very sloppy job here. Maintenance is going to be… difficult.”

Troja worked his ass open for a few of her nano-second minutes, then worked his ass OPEN with a capital O for a few minutes more, during which her digital payload sloshed around in her overly full balls, filling her with an urge to get her own reward, to fill his hole with all of her data, a few warm, sticky petabytes of it. She spent so long on the internet all pent up that she'd saved up a veritable unsigned long-full of the stuff. She was nearly there... but was having a hard time buffering.

“I’m gonna overflow... tighten up! Ooh… if only I could do this at run-time…”

She pulled his cheek to one side while pulling her cock to the other so that she could use his sphincter, his one remaining tight ring, to masturbate it out of her. She’d done such a number on his butthole that even for her bloated cock it was too loose to use otherwise; even if she fully thrust her shaft up into it, it would barely offer any resistance at all, like the most battleworn, turned-out sluttiest pussy. While it still felt good to bury it balls-deep in his shithole, it no longer offered enough sensation for her resolve her routine gracefully… and she wasn’t about to return to the virtual world with real blue balls. Besides, what fun was it to ream a boy’s funhole so comically large that it looked like you’d fisted him, if you didn’t also fill that newly-mined quarry up with a surprise semen load? So she continued to pull his cheek aside and rub it against his wall as best she could, gripping firmly onto his round white mound as she did, utterly ignoring the genitals dangling just underneath. She wiggled her cock in his gaping chasm so that it stuck to the walls and she felt the subtle contractions and pulses of a ruined rectum, and even squeezed his cheeks together to try and make it tighter, but the only thing that worked was to rub one out against the side of his colon, so she put her hand on his rear and pulled it this way and that while gently rubbing against his sore wall until, finally, she blasted it up his newly-clogged plumbing, her tiny twitches and jerks filling up his stretched out tunnel with the gooey contents of her balls.

Her cock plugged his hole, even as the cum began to backwash, his makeshift pussy simply unable to compensate for the amount of semen invading it from the wrong direction.

“Upload… complete.”

On some occasions, the moment where she finished her punishment was a relatively calm one, as her heart returned to its resting rate, and she uttered a refreshed "ah," and as their violated hole relinquished her post-spewing cock with a small, barely perceptible sound, so that it constricted and puckered and kissed its gift-giver, snapping shut to keep the fresh, boiling, sticky load inside.

And with that perverse kiss a single strand of cum would connect their reddened dumper with the tip of her cock, the only visible indication that they'd just been buggered, the full extent of their buggery hidden within their bowels. She'd even left a few to puzzle out once she'd finished. The ass-to-mouth enthusiasts seemed to figure out the fastest, on such occasions where she snuck off.

This was not such an occasion.

She pulled out at a steady pace to a wet, schlorpy sound, and the boy's hole greedily held on to it, so that when she had fully withdrawn it, it popped like a champagne cork.

She'd so vigorously crammed it in this boy's shitter that his anus was now comically agape, making it quite obvious that he'd just received a thorough booty penetration.

She noted with a sort of sadness that the webcam wouldn’t be able to pick up her movements any more than he could, maybe her entire performance would appear a single-frame blur if anything. As she reclined next to him, a trail of cum leading from the tip of her sticky, deflating phallus into the gaping chasm that was his wrecked rectal region. And then, she synced up her mental cycles with the typical pace of the non-virtual world.

His eyes went wide as saucers, although not as nearly as wide as his brown eye had been stretched. The last thing he remembered, an incredibly hot woman had appeared on his computer screen. Now, he was...

He took it in all at once. He was naked, and his hair was up, and he was bent over the edge of his bed, knock-kneed, his butt in the air, and his asshole felt... oh no...

He felt the cool breeze between his cheeks, and then the burning on his hole, and for a second, he thought something was inside of it... and he was close, as something had just been inside of it. He smelled the sex in the air and felt someone lean against him, and that's when he realized how open his butt felt...

He stomach gurgled, and he felt like he had to go... but he couldn't understand why his butt felt like it did. Instead, he just sat there and was utterly perplexed as his anus gaped and winked like a mare in heat.

"Oho, look at that face. Someone didn't expect to get a pongo in the bongo. Or some spooger in the pooger. Well, your pussy's as good as any other. And, oof, boyo, let me tell you, I needed that."

He definitely felt something wet and sticky dripping out of his hole, and it definitely didn’t feel like it belonged there.

"Oof, what an upload. Yep, I flung goo up there. Sorry kiddo. No shithole deserves that. Relax, I don't have any malware. I just didn't have a firewall."

He couldn’t figure out what she was saying, but when he looked over and saw her massive, dripping cock, he nearly fainted. His eyes followed a single strand of cum as it connected to some unseen place… which he realized was in his digestive tract.

"Keep it - a gift from me to you, free of charge. You earned it, you saucy little tart. You and your tight little fuckhole," she said, leaning forward to see her handiwork. "Speaking of... whoa! There's a well-used pussy if I've ever seen one. And trust me, since I travel around the internet on porn, I've seen a lot of well-used pussies. And plenty of badly-used ones, too. I should leave a few bitcoins in there for a tip. I hope you don't feel too violated. You look violated enough as is. There should be a law against what I just did to your butthole."

It was a wider gape than normally showed up in those videos, and the insides were all painted white. A few dozen loads were probably let fly when she revealed his fucked-open-wide hole to the viewers at home.

“Quite the cave you got there, girly. Pretty flooded, too. You could see I had a good time. Hotdog in a hallway comes to mind... I can see someone's not gonna be constipated for a while. Try and close it,” she said, and whether through shock or a genuine inability, he only winked it closed slightly. “Ooh... not happening. This is why you should be more careful in your… browsing practices. I got to blow my load in a cramped place, and you got a busted asshole. Raw deal, kiddo,” she said, and he couldn’t even parse the words. "Relax, I preserved your virginity. Preserved the fuck out of it... kind of rough for your first time to be in your shithole, though."

They were both silent for a moment, and then a glob of cum dislodged and started to drip onto the floor.

“Look at it dripping out... you are SO full of spunk. Well, thanks for letting me spit my slime in your gaper, kiddo.”

With time stopped for him, he wasn't aware that he lost his anal virginity in between a heartbeat, but he was more than aware of it now. His stomach churned and rumbled… and then the air that had been trapped inside escaped, blowing a sticky spiderweb all over the floor, and the webcam, coating it with a white film that all but ended the stream.

With that, she stood up, walked over to the computer, and gave him a short wave goodbye before bending over, giving him a full view of her behind, and her dangling cock, and putting her arm through the screen. She disappeared into it with a flash... and he sat still in his room, silent, utterly bewildered, her cum bubbling out of his gaping asshole, her torn panties still on his bed.


	2. Doggy Play

"I want to do a little doggy roleplay, so here, put these on," Priya said, handing him a headband with fluffy pink poodle ears.

"Pink?"

"Oh, don't complain, they look good on you."

He was at his ex-girlfriend's place, unbeknownst to his current girlfriend, whose texts he'd been ignoring all day. He'd picked up a box of condoms on the way there, but he hadn't gotten to use them yet. His ex always preferred to do it anywhere but the bedroom - and anything but normal. It was part of the reason he was back in her house, nearly four months after their breakup.

She'd taken him down some perverse paths... but he probably didn't suspect where her latest idea for him was leading.

So now he was naked, aside from a humiliating dog-ears headband with a bow on it like a poodle bitch and a pair of thigh-highs, but she still had most of her clothes on. He didn't know what doggy roleplay entailed, but he was pretty certain he was the doggy.

The doorbell rang. 

"Oh shit, I think that's Jen," she said, and his eyes went wide. "Hide... under here! Quick, before she gets suspicious," she said, lifting the tablecloth on her kitchen table, and letting him crawl under it.

He watched her feet as she walked over to the door, unlocked it, and opened it.

"Hi Priya, I got your text."

"Jen! How are you?"

"I'm fine, you?"

"I'm excellent," she said, and Jen eyed her Huskie-looking mutt with a little trepidation. "Oh, that's right, you're not good with dogs, right? I'll tell him to go to his bed," she said, and then pointed him in the direction of the table, then watched as Fido made his way under it.

He was surprised; there was no doggy bed under the table. There was barely room for both him and the dog under there, and he hoped that it wouldn't bark or otherwise signal that he was there - although it quickly became the case that he had bigger things to worry about. Mainly a big mutt that seemed far too interested in his rear end.

It licked his rear over and over without pause, and he struggled to keep his voice in. It became even harder to hold in his voice when, suddenly, the big dog reared up and wrapped its front paws around his midsection.

Was that what Priya meant when she said doggy roleplay? He had to keep his voice down... or Jen would hear, but... there was a very real chance Fido was going to initiate some butt-loving that he'd never live down. His heart was racing - if he tried to avoid it, he risked losing both women in one fell swoop, but if he didn't avoid it...

Its rapid jabbings managed to dab some doggy precum on his otherwise dry balloon knot, a level of lubrication that would do more to aid in unnatural penetration than to make the ensuing breeding easier to take. It took everything he had to keep his voice in. Priya had played with his hole before, but her finger and a dog's dick were an entirely different world of perversion.

His gentle attempts to maneuver his pooper in a way that avoided a skewering by dog dong without making noise soon proved too little, and he knew that if he didn't make major motions to get out from under Fido soon, he'd be adding sodomy and bestiality to his list of perverse sex acts that Priya had introduced him to. His face was flushed red with embarassment and anxiety - but he knew it was going to happen even before it did. At the last moment, he put his hand over his mouth, and said goodbye to his asshole's virginity and dignity both.

When it finally did make its mark, the bitch balled her hands into fists and groaned almost inaudibly. Without real lubrication, it had to stretch open the bitch's O-ring with sheer penetrative power. His eyes rolled up into his head - dry dog dick was no joke, and remaining silent while being punched up the puppy hole by one was nearly impossible.

"What was that noise?" Jen asked abruptly, hearing his muffled groan from having his asshole pried open by a dog's bone.

"Hrm? I didn't hear anything. So, how's our mutual acquaintance?" she asked, knowing that he'd just lost his anal virginity to a dog.

"He's fine... is... that his car outside?" he heard Jen say.

"Oh, yes... he was just here, picking up some of his things. He rented a van. Probably getting ready to unload right around now."

He couldn't see Jen's face to see if she was buying it, but her next question seemed more than a little suspicious. He felt the barbed sting of Priya's implication just as he felt the cum stirring in his stupid, stupid testicles.

"When is he going to get here?"

"He had a lot to take. He's going to be dog-tired when he's done. But it won't be much longer."

The puppy pounding his pooper couldn't appreciate her wordplay, but it did appreciate how his aching, dog-reamed bowels were tighter than any puppy pussy had the right to be. He felt its appreciation in the form of a hard, round ball about the size of a tennis ball that was working its way through his unprepared hole.

"Mind if I use your bathroom?" he heard Jen ask, and he sensed his freedom.

"Not at all. Up the stairs, second door on the left."

As soon as they could hear Jen's footsteps ascending the stairs, she lifted up the tablecloth and leered down at him. 

"I leave you alone for one minute and here you are getting your ass blasted by a dog."

"H-help! It's stuck!" he said, realizing that he couldn't pull himself free of Fido's amorous advances, or his genitals balls-deep in his butt.

"Oh. Nothing I can do about that. Gotta let him finish, then we can pull him off of you."

She grabbed a handful of his ass and pulled his cheek aside to give her dog a better penetration. 

"That's it, make sure to give him all of it, Fido," she said, stretching his hole with her fingers. She reached under him, and found what she was looking for. "You're this big, just from getting penetrated... hmm..." she said, stroking his full erection.

"Nngh... is this... what you planned for me?"

Priya smacked his ass. "Is that how you've been justifying it to yourself? No, I didn't plan for you to get fucked in the ass by my dog, you sick little pervert. I never would have thought you'd be getting off on getting ass-reamed by a pooch. Honestly, I'm a little disappointed. Now that I know after all this time that all it takes is an animal's cock up your butt, it seems too easy," she said, derisively.

They heard footsteps, so she dropped the tablecloth, hiding them from view. Jen returned, and she beamed at her. "Find it?"

"Yeah. He's still not done?"

She grinned. "Almost."

It wasn't clear which "he" she was referring to, but the sensation of having that big ball in his bowels was too much - it was only a matter of time before his cup runneth over. But he wasn't first - his eyes went wide as he felt Fido let it fly.

Again, he couldn't help but let out a sound as he felt the stuck dog suddenly erupt hot ejaculate inside of him, but this time, it seemed that Jen didn't notice. He felt his entire body become hot, and he rolled his eyes as his bowels distended under the weight of the doggy cum enema.

His legs trembling, his eyes rolled up, his tongue lolled out, he ejaculated all over the floor in spurts that he'd never be able to take back. 

"Hrm, I think I just heard him. He must be done," she said, and Jen, now quite clearly suspicious, went out through the front door to check.

Priya lifted the tablecloth again, and smirked. 

"What a full, doggy load you have in there," she said, touching his tender belly, "can you keep it in if I pull this big knot out?"

"I don't know, just get it out!"

She gently coaxed Fido to pull away, and his vision went white as it tried to pull free. With a final tug, the whole of Fido's anatomy pulled free of his aching asshole, and with it, some of his runny dog cum. Priya's eyes glistened. 

"Whew, look at that knot. What a nasty way to lose your butthole virginity. No wonder you can't close it," she said, inspecting his winking, gaping hole, and then she saw the floor between his legs. "Is that... semen? Jesus. Poor Jen."

"That's... probably the dog's cum."

"That doesn't look like dog cum. Why don't we ask Jen?"

"Fine! That's... it's mine."

"Came while getting crap blasted by a dog, eh? Don't know why I'm surprised. Go get changed upstairs. And make sure to take those off," she said, flicking his fluffy dog ears. "You can keep the dog cum. You better - any dog cumfarts might tip her off, you know?"

As if summoned, Jen came through the front door again, just as he disappeared from view. "If his car is parked outside, how is he going to get here?"

"A friend of mine just helped him out," she said, struggling to hide her smirk. "They just got... dropped him off. He should be here in a minute."

Several minutes passed - he got dressed, snuck out the window, and then "showed up" at the front door.

"Oh, there you are!" she said, and he cringed. "Why is your face so red?"

At that moment, Fido trotted past, his knot still visible, trailing cum behind him. When he saw it, his face got redder.

"You're covered with fur," she pointed out, pulling some from out of his hair. 

"And filled with..." Priya started, and he lost his breath, but then she stopped, and Jen just cocked her head, confused.

"So... what do we want to do?" she asked, and he wanted nothing more than to go home and take a shower.

"Let's go out for dinner. My treat," Priya said, emphasizing 'treat' - as in, something you give a dog who's been a good girl.

Priya was good on her promise... but when he got a text the next day that started with "Hey, Fido misses you..." he knew that she wasn't quite done with the doggy play.


	3. The Maid

As rumor has it, some rich foreigner recently moved into the abandoned château on the hill, and he hired a dazzling array of beautiful local maids to service it. Looking in through the window, the thief sees that it's true, particularly as one bends over to dust an old bust that likely hasn't been cleaned since before the war. The thief waits patiently for her to leave, and sighs in frustration when she stops dusting to sneeze. Hearing the noise, she turns towards the window, but the thief ducks into the bushes just in time, and she, fortunately, doesn't spot him. When she finishes, she takes one passing glance at the window, and then saunters off, her heels clacking on the floor loudly. She closes the parlour door behind her, and he hears the sound of her footsteps fading down a hallway before he slips the wire under the glass.

The window opens outward, and he idly pushes aside a curtain as he enters. He silently hides his sack under a four-legged armchair, and then appraises the room for light yet valuable goodies. He squeezes between a chair and a table, and that proves to be his undoing: a vase tips, falls, and shatters. He freezes, and listens carefully, but no one apparently heard him. Relieved, he begins to pilfer everything that isn't nailed down. Having filled the sack enough to make a tidy profit, but not too burdened so as to slow him down, he hoists it out the window, carefully dropping into the bush. He looks around the room for anything he might have missed, and then as quickly and silently as he can, jumps through the window and into the bush, landing deftly on his feet at a knee. On the ground before him is a pair of slick shoes, and when he looks up, a man's face looks down at him. The contents of his heist are strewn along the floor, and before he can speak, the sack that had contained them covers him,  
trapping him.

\---

It isn't the first time he'd been caught. Confident that the police would treat him... harshly were he turned in, he agreed to serve the master of the house for a time to pay off the cost of the vase... more than fair terms that made him more than suspicious.

The head maid, a lusty looking older, native woman with a heavy bossom and a cold demeanor, took the responsibility of prepping him for service. She shaved of him of his few pale, blonde hairs, admiring his smooth, milky skin in an uncomfortable way, before offhandedly remaking about it.

"You 'ar a very preety boy... unfortunate."

It wasn't until he was presented with his uniform, which was identical to what the other maids were wearing, were his suspicions confirmed, but because the master had confiscated his clothing, and with it his identification papers, there was little he could do to object.

The first few days passed without incident. He felt awkward wearing women's clothing, but the other maids rarely commented on it, and the master didn't pay any more attention to him than he did the unused furniture. The other maids occasionally made flirtatious comments to him, but relations with the rest of the staff was on the long list of things the head maid had listed as verboten. Top of that list was "disobeying the master," and he wondered when, if ever, the master was going to start giving commands or acknowledging him in any way. After almost a week, he got his answer, though it wasn't one he'd been hoping for.

He's cleaning the window... the very same one he'd climbed into, while the master is reclined in a chair, reading. He moodily wipes the window, unaware that the master is watching him... right until he feels something click onto the choker around his neck. He tries to turn to see what the master's doing, but the master tells him to stay still with one firm command. He feels a tug on his neck... and realizes that the master has affixed him with a leash. He would have been surprised if the next thing the master did wasn't to pull down his undergarments.

The master holds onto his leash while he prepares himself... including the ominous sound of a zipper. He remains still... until he feels the master's suggestion.

"Non! Non, monsieur!"

Were it not for the leash, within the rules the master set, he would be able to avoid it. Instead, he can't pull away his exposed backside, even as the master exerts more and more pressure on his soft, tender entrance. That pressure grows and grows, until it mutes all sound, the image of a pressure cooker ready to burst flashing into his mind. He opens his mouth to object, but all that comes out is:

"Ee, n... UNF! Merde!"

The rings suspending the curtain start to bend and warp as the master slips in a few more inches than even the most experienced whore in all of Paris would be pleased to accept, prying open the boy's hallowed gates even more than he'd expected. Though his initial response was to swear, shock quickly gives way to discomfort, his toes curling in his high-heeled slutshoes and his knuckles turning white and his teeth grit tightly as his anal rings attempt to adjust to the unnannounced, unexpected intrusion. The master moans, satisfied, as if he'd just achieved one of his life's goals (plugging a feminine boy's bottom while he protests feebly wearing a maid's outfit?), before nonchalantly flipping up the boy's skirt, so that he can view firsthand the penetration. He snickers at the sight, while the boy lowers his head, biting his lip, bidding his anus to open up and swallow what it's given... no matter how fat. The master moans again, swearing under his breath, noting how exquisitely tight a virgin boy's butt is, waiting for his unfortunate paramour to adjust slightly before rendering all such adjustments worthless. He pulls firmly on the leash, and the boy desperately clings to the curtains, trying to pull himself forward, but the master is stronger, and they both can feel the inevitable backwards slide where it counts.

"Merci! Merci!" the maid pleads, finding his attempts to cope with his rigorous anal debut fruitless. Though he complained, the master was amused that the boy still allowed himself to be fucked, women's clothing and all. He only penetrates about halfway before allowing the little thief to steal away again... but he holds the leash firmly, and pulls him back again just the same.

Eventually, the master lets the leash go slack, and grabs onto the frills of the boy's skirt instead, gliding his receptive tart's smooth, hairless hole over his long, slick, pulsing shaft with audible results. He didn't even thrust, instead opting to move his little Ganymede where his master desired, which was closer, or, as it resulted, deeper. The boy began to ramble in french, expressions of embarassment, frustration and discomfort, to no one in particular, although the curtains were a captive audience.

He's amused by the boy's whining in the language of love, but more importantly, he was enticed by it. Combined with the skillful, if unintentional, massaging of his tool by the boy's beleaguered (buggered), pleasant-to-look-at and better-still-to-plow rear, he's building towards a 'le petit mort' that would be the triumphant crescendo in his symphony about the boy's ruined masculinity. The boy seems unaware of this rapidly approaching threat to his interior design, although the hardening of the thing attacking his weak spot had caught his attention, prompting another swear.

The sounds get increasingly wet as he pulls on the skirt, sliding the boy's tight, pink anal ring up and down his shaft, which looks more and more ominously stiff. He can see that the quarter of his cock at the base is still dry, which gives him his final, wicked idea. He pushes the boy away, almost knocking him over, so that almost the full length of his shaft is pulled free of his aching pit, so that just the tip remains, keeping the pucker pried open slightly, denying the boy of his relief. It was a french kiss in a greek style, the boy unsuspecting that the precum dribbling into the final part of his rectum is a foreshadowing of events to come. The master pulls insistently on the skirt, slowly, and the boy keeps otherwise still, likely embarassed by the sudden change of pace. He sees his cock disappearing inch by inch into the boy's  
miserably undersized hole, into him, where he knows it will not emerge again until it is sated. When the boy realizes that what he thought had been the master's best offering is already inside, but his pulling does not cease, he panicks, singing a song in French likely about the benefits of leaving the deepest portions of your lover's canal mercifully unfucked, as he suffers through the twofold discomfort of his anus gripping roughly onto the dry base of the master's cock, and his previously unmolested pipe getting laid anew. He thinks there should be a turn, but if there iss, the master has either somehow snaked it through or straightened it out, and he wasn't sure which was worse. 

He shudders and swears the whole length, but especially those last few inches, during which he grinds his heels into the wooden floor like a screw, and the only reason he doesn't finally tear the curtain from its very final ring iss because he knew that then he would fall, and then he would be the one getting screwed on the floor.

For the first time, they touch somewhere that is not bratwurst and canal, as the boy's plump derriere taps lightly against the master's abdomen. The boy's face is red from effort, and the master's from exertion, but his pulling and pushing  
of the skirt is over: he merely held it tightly in place. The boy's rings try desparately to expel him, tightening at random, unknowingly coaxing it out of him better than any professional. He looks down at the base of the sausage that he is hiding almost entirely in the poor boy's bum, and laughs, knowing that as the boy's stranglehold on his shaft built him towards the inexorable grand finale, his maid is too busy complaining about the lack of floorspace in her recently rented out living area to notice. He looks past and around his buried pole at the boy's coinpurse, and sees that he's puffy and full. Of course, he was forbidden from relations with his fellow maids... despite his boyish good looks. But he doubts the boy is building towards anything unsightly, which he doesn't mind one way or the other. The pathetic display of confused arousal he's already showing is enough, along with his effete French protests and his rear's unbidden performance to bring the master to a boil.

He'd been pent up for a bit too long, so he groans loudly, and then sighs, going to heaven inside his little lover in a more than satisfactory finish. "She"  
had never been kissed, never been hugged, never been "touched" where it mattered most, and yet "she" is in the process of receiving the steamy result of their affair.

The boy realizes too late what's happening, his eyes going wide with surprise, and he turns to see if it had been an accident, but sees by the look on his master's face that it was not. Already, the master had cum in his ass, so deeply that he couldn't even feel it, aside from a growing pressure that could have been anything. Still, the master was using his hole to ride out the rest of victorious climax, tensely rocking the boy back and forth so that his tight, spasming anus milked him at the base involuntarily, screwing the boy in an uncomfortable way in an uncomfortable place. His shaft bloats as he spurts, and the boy's hole constricts as it spasms, so that when he's at his largest and the boy is at his tightest, it's impossible to shoot, but this only delays him a beat, a rest in the bar, before the next sad note is blown into the boy where the sun never shines. The two of them hardly move as the master makes his deposit somewhere deep inside the nubile boy's uncharted, unfucked bowels.

The master holds tightly onto the lace, so that the maid's wriggling wouldn't spoil his satisfaction. All "she" can manage is a deflated "merci..." as a truly boiling soup is being shot up where it didn't belong, the most embarassing place to receive a load, up his virgin shitter. Pardon the French*. Having finished filling his little French toy with freshly-churned creamy butter, the master shifts back so he has room to pull free. The boy holds his head in shame as the master starts to slide out of the overstimulated too-tight love-tunnel that still clings to his length like it doesn't want it to leave. The feeling of it sliding out is as intense as the previous fucking, and he grits is teeth only partially out of discomfort, but partially out of relief, feeling the offending, massive object leaving his stuffed hindquarters. Despite cumming the master is still almost as hard as he was while he was, so the extrication isn't easy, to the master's amusement and the boy's humiliation. It feels like he's pulling meters of cock out of his poor, abused hole, standing a pace away as he pulls his buried tool from the boy's now-explored depths. With the sex over, the embarassing reality and mundanity of having a cock probed up your butt makes the boy turn ever redder, hoping that the next inch will be the end of his humiliation for several inches before his wish comes true.

With a slurping noise like a finger being pulled from fresh gelatin, followed by a painful sounding pop and an almost certainly cross-eyed "merde" whispered under breath, the master pulls finally free from his hole, leaving his orifice only humiliatingly gaped. Apparently only almost entirely done with his ejaculation, the master's erect, barely curving cock twitches one final time, spitting some colorless, runny, likely spermless slime across the boy's pouch and thigh, having used up all the good sperm somewhere in the boy's tummy. The boy's anus puckers, confused as to what just happened to it. The boy shudders his relief at his ass finally being unmolested, again, but is too exhausted to move from his le petit prostitute pose, bent over in heels, sticking out his rear end and clutcing to the now-ruined curtains, his hole gaping in either the aftermath of sex or in tight-breathed anticipation of a truly big one. If his master caught his second wind, he would likely be on the immediate receiving end of a second romp, one with more humping and more lubrication, but the stars were right, and the master was sated. He releases the boy's skirt, which in that position still barely fails to cover his stretched-out open hole, and coughs, clearing his throat, before returning himself to his pants, zipping up in a purely perfunctory manner.

The boy feels his tunnel returning to a shape as it relaxes that almost resembles the picaresque, perfectly tight topography that it had an hour prior. His orifice itself is a mockery of what it would never be again, puckered open and puffy.

He stands upright and his skirt falls back into place, covering his sore derriere, and nothing looks amiss. There's little indication that he's just been bummed silly, or that his "bubble butt" is now full of bubbles, as the both of them are fully dressed. They're both breathing heavily (although trying to hide it), and though the boy certainly feels awry, his quickly beating heart, lightly sweating skin and freshly fucked asshole are all but invisible. The only hint of what just transpired might be his flushed-red cheeks, from both the exertion and embarassment of having been taken carnally by his employer, who was now feigning ignorance of the entire episode. With a heavy heart and a gaping hole the boy returned to his duties... the real ones, cleaning and arranging the room tidily, while the master hardly took notice of him. It almost seems like the whole thing had been a dream... but the proof is in the pudding, and the pudding is in his bum.

When he's finished cleaning, he leaves wordlessly, trying to act dignified and unperturbed while smuggling his master's boiling load out of the room. He hoped that the master had gotten it out of his system... but wasn't about to bet on it.


	4. Experimental Failure (Backdoor Science)

Tap. Tap. Tap tap tap. Tap. Tap. Tap tap tap. Ta-

"Could you stop that?!" she said, finally abandoning her attempt to squeeze out a single droplet long enough to scold her lab assistant. Alexandria had worked too hard to build her secret lab for it to be destroyed instantaneously because her idiot lab assistant kept tapping out the tune to a song that only he could hear.

"Sorry, it's just stuck in my head," he admitted, putting down the pen he'd been using to take notes with and / or tap out a billboard top 40 hit on the table with.

"There would be a whole lot more stuck in your head if this reaction gets out of control. Oh... I'm too nervous to do it now. Can you...?"

"Sure!" he said, hastily standing up to join her in front of a table that contained a distilling aparatus and a single flask in a stand that contained a completely clear, innocuous looking liquid. He put his arms around her to take the eyedropper from her and to hold the flask steady, and she froze in place.

"Thank you. Just be... careful."

"How many drops?" he asked, dropping one inside and then preparing to squeeze out another, before she slapped the eyedropper out of his hand, sending it to the floor where it rolled away harmlessly. The contents of the flask bubbled, then the entire flask began to vibrate, and she pulled him away from it as it boiled over and the flask itself turned red hot. When the reaction slowed, she let out a sigh, and the contents of the flask was a pale brown.

"One," she said, turning around to glare at him. "One is fine."

She disentangled herself from his insufficiently terrified embrace and stomped off in frustration. He watched her go, perplexed, then went back to his note taking.

Since establishing her lab, she'd already had several great successes - among them, a self-organizing plastic, a sonic lubricator, a toaster that browned but didn't burn - she was several successful prototypes away from taking over the world, or at least New Jersey, but still, there was one nuisanced in her life that she couldn't be free of.

She found herself constantly distracted by her lab assistant, Luke. Whether it be to ask inane questions, or because he broke another flask, or accidentally let all the gas out of a burner and nearly singed his eyebrows off, she didn't have a moment's peace. So why did she keep him around? Well, for two reasons: first, Luke was brilliant in his own way, with an encyclopedic knowledge of chemical compounds, organic compounds, physical constants and equations - anything a mad scientist would need to quickly recall. More than once, he'd warned her about a dangerous chemical reaction that might take place during an experiment, or what might go wrong with a device just by eye-balling it. Science genius aside, however, Luke could charitably be called rock-fuck stupid, and she was often surprised to learn that he'd managed to grasp a concept as simple as putting one foot in front of the other.

Unfortunately, he had also grasped another simple concept, which frustrated her efforts regarding her second reason for keeping Luke around: "don't shit where you eat." In particular, he had assured her that he would be professional at all times, and that absolutely no sexual intercourse would take place between them under any circumstance, in the lab or out. The other reason she kept him around then, of course, was so that he could lubricate her ovums with his copious gametes during an exchange of bodily fluids, genetic materials, and filthy language. In other words, she wanted to fuck him blind, and be fucked blind in return.

It wasn't entirely sexual. In addition to wanting to climb on top of his cock until either she or it fell off, she also found that did enjoy his company, even as his buffoonish pratfalls cost her long nights of work in a single stroke of brilliant idiocy that she would frequently try to ignore in favor of his more desirable traits. And when he was excited about some obscure bit of minutae, or became excited about one of her creations, she found herself looking at him fondly while wedding bells chimed and pants zippers unzipped in her head simultaneously.

She'd never been a conventional girl... or person for that matter. But she did want a little mad scientist of her own, and someone of her own stripe to raise them with - and Luke definitely had good genetics. He was healthy, attractive, and, from what she could tell based on impromptu measurements of his inseam while she pretended to measure things he was holding, he was hung like a bullmoose. And if she could get married to a man she loved and shove it in her stupid "socially active" colleagues faces at the same time, then spend the rest of her life with him in blissful romance / domestic paradise, all the better.

She calculated the probability of that happening as 0.01%, with a margin of error of 0.01%. That is... without a little help from her creations. 

While she tinkered and dabbled and got her Science! on, she found herself constantly thinking about ways to tip the scale in her favor. Nothing of the cackling evil and thunderclaps variety, that is... well, most of the time. She didn't want a love potion of a mind control ray. She just needed a make-my-coworker-see-me-as-a-fuck-goddess-o-matic. Among her more mundane ideas were human sexuality experimentation, but she thought that a little too on the nose. Fertility, on the other hand... 

It took a few days after the incident that nearly blew up the lab to complete the synthesis of a large enough quantity to have the desired effect on a human. She asked if he would be willing to be the guinea pig, and he agreed... then asked what it actually was. She hadn't explained it throughout the entire development process.

"It's a sperm enhancing cocktail," she said, pushing a vial into his hand with a little more force than intended. "And, like I said, I need you to test it." 

"For flavor?"

She sighed. "No. For efficacy. And side effects, but my rat trials so far have been completely devoid of any. For the parameters of the experiment, I'm going to need something from you, though," she said, feeling her palms start to sweat She adjusted her glasses as they slipped down her nose.

"Sperm?"

"No! Well, yes. I... need you to not... masturbate for the duration of the experiment. Is that acceptable?"

"I... sure. I can do that. How long is the experiment going to go on?"

"Hrm..." she mused, "I wonder..."

She walked one foot in front of the other to her desk, and bent over it to read her papers. While she was down there, she felt her cheeks flush red. "It says here 'as long as it takes.'" When she straightened herself up, she took a glance back at him, and saw that her clumsy attempt at seduction had, by the shape of his trousers, started up sperm production.

The next few days were... difficult. If Luke had been distracting before, he was even more distracting now - and it was because he was distracted. She was certain he wasn't masturbating, because every few minutes he got lost in "thought" and then dropped something.

After a week and several doses of the test substance, she decided that there were nearly outside the bounds of the experimental parameters - that is, she couldn't wait any longer. Seeing Luke steal the occasional glance at her while she worked or stare fixedly at her lips or chest as she spoke to him had made her in probably as unfocused a state as he was in, if not worse.

There was just one finishing touch - a fertility drug that she had perfected. She held a pill up to Luke's face as he sat in his chair. "Know what this is?"

"Candy?"

"No, it's..." she started, and then sighed. "It's a fertility drug. Triggers ovulation and helps fertilized eggs implant on the wall of the uterus. Do you know what that means?"

She stared at him, waiting for a response. After a good ten seconds, his face lit up. "Babies!"

She felt her fingers massaging her temples and she didn't remember putting them there. She stopped, popped the pill in her mouth, and kicked her head back to swallow it dry, then looked back at him. "It means... I'm fertile now. So fertile."

"Did you... meet someone?" he asked, looking a little crestfallen. 

"Kind of. I've known him a while. But I'd like to get to... know him better," she said, sitting down in the chair that she liked to scoot about the office in. 

"You should take him camping. I heard that's a good way to break the ice."

She sighed, although more from a tight feeling in her chest than frustration. She felt... really warm. Whether it was the fertility drug, the knowledge that both of them were currently extremely fertile, or the embarassment for being so brazen, she didn't know, but she pushed on, in spite of herself.

"It's not ice I want you to break," she said, spreading her legs, slowly. "Although, I see you've already pitched a tent." He had. She watched as it steadily erected higher and higher in response.0

She assured herself that this was a legitimate experiment, even with the confounding factor of her own fertility drug. All she had to do was ensure that he didn't go all the way - if his precum was sufficient to induce pregnancy, she would consider that the first successful trial. And if he happened to ejaculate in her while she was forcefully ovulating with a drastically increased chance of fertilized egg implementation and his semen was so enriched and thick and full of sperm that impregnation, possibly with twins, was all but guaranteed? That was a risk she was more-than-willing to take for Science.

"Luke," she said, and he looked up at her face, attentively. "If a woman seduced you right now... and you didn't hate her... would you be able to resist her? Or do you think your instincts would take over?"

"If I was seduced right now... I think I couldn't control myself. Is that wrong?"

"No... it's the research hypothesis," she said, standing up so that she was looking down at him. "Okay, I need you to close your eyes." He obeyed.

She slipped out of her lab coat first, then her blouse, then her pants... and finally, with a little reluctance, her shoes.

She felt her bare feet touching the cold floor of the lab... but her entire body felt hot. Her chest heaved and her lips felt dry. She debated taking off her glasses as well, as her sweat made it difficult to keep them up, but she couldn't see a thing without them. She felt the cool air on her naked skin, her nipples hard for more than one reason, and took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly, and opened her own eyes.

She looked down at him and his prominent stiffy and felt her entire body shudder. She wasn't sure if she could really go on, even though she wanted to, but it was too late to turn back now.

"Okay. Next experiment. When you open your eyes, I need you to keep looking at me, no matter what. Don't look away. You can tell me if you want to... but don't look away, okay?"

"Got it."

She didn't know what to do with her hands. She held up her breasts, then decided against it, then crossed her arms under them, then put them by her side... finally, she decided to cover her reddening labia, in case his reaction was so negative that she decided not to show him that after all.

"On the count of three, open your eyes. One. Two. ... ... ... ... ... Three."

He opened his eyes, and she immediately noticed his pupils dilating. Then the rest of his body dilated. "Alex... you're... naked."

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, I am. And I can't help but notice you're in control of yourself," she said, putting her weight from one side to the other, squirming under his gaze.

"Are you... seducing me?"

"I would hope that would be obvious!" she said, bouncing on her toes, feeling totally exposed.

"Oh. OH," he said, and then suddenly looked... really uncomfortable. She felt her spirit leaving her body, and wondered it was definite proof of life after death. "So you want me to... fuck you?"

"...yes. Vigorously," deciding that if she wasn't attractive to him before, then a little desperation couldn't hurt.

Again, he stared gormlessly at her. For seconds, probably, but she was pretty sure that days had gone by when he finally seemed to grok what she was radiating out like a white hot star. A smile spread across his face like a slime mold, and then, he was on her.

She suddenly couldn't breathe, and realized that her nose was pressed against his face, and her mouth was sealed in a kiss, his hands were roughly running over her body, clasping her shoulder blade, and the neck, and her butt, and her hip. She responded in kind, her hands automatically finding his belt buckle, his button, and his zipper in short order, and if he had a problem with her going straight for his dick, he showed it by sporting a massive erection that, upon seeing it, made her vagina tighten up in reflexive defense. She was captivated by it, even as Luke removed his shoes and socks.

He pulled his shirt off, and she pulled his pants down, and then he hoisted her up onto a cold lab table, sending a chill through her spine (and an almost immediate chattering in her teeth as her hot buns pressed against the cold steel), and she spread her legs, reaching forward for him to embrace her. Just as he was about to simultaneously hug her and fill her pussy with enough dick to tide it over the winter, she stopped him.

"Wait! Use this," she said, handing him something she'd serendipitiously discovered on the table. "It's that sonic lubricator," she explained - seeing his girth and length made her realize it was probably for the better that they gave it a try.

"How do I use it?" he asked, turning it over in his hand.

"Here, give it to me," she said, impatiently, and then snatched it from him, hopped off the table, knelt down, none too excited to feel her knees touch the even-colder lab floor, and slipped it on him, then activated it with a small twist of the center ring. Slowly, it hummed to life. "Perfect, now-- oof!"

Having her handle his cock had apparently been the last straw for Luke - he pulled her down to the floor, so that she was on her face and knees, then stepped over her, and before she could rise up onto her hands, he put his foot between her shoulder blades, forcing her face onto the floor once more and straddling her ass, wearing nothing but the sonic lubricator.

Not only would the sonic lubricator help him ease it in to her virginal region, it would also provide some... additional stimulation. Given that she'd worn her current vibrator down to the nub, she knew that she enjoyed that kind of stimulation, and also that it wasn't strictly necessary for getting her open and ready to go, but he didn't need to know that.

She felt self-conscious and uncomfortable with her knees on the hard, cold tiles of her lab, but she was eagerly awaiting the arrival of her hot assistant and his also-hot and hard tool, equipped with some extra features of her own design.

She felt the vibrations caused by the directive high amplitude sound emitted by the sonic lubricator along her vulva, and bit her lip with anticipation. She could feel it opening up her vaginal opening at a distance - perfect, she though, as she waited for him to plunge it in.

Then she felt it - a rather embarassing sensation - as her butthole and the inside of her anal entrance opened significantly. While her face turned red, she realized that the sonic lubricator's current frequency was probably a better match for the walls of her rectum than the walls of her vagina - a minor calibration, but one she doubted either of them were in the mood to perform. Still, even if it was better suited elsewhere, it seemed to be having the expected effect where she needed it.

As he approached, the sensation got stronger... in both places. She hoped that he didn't find the view of her anus opening up too distasteful or distracting. She expected him to lunge right in, but he seemed to be hesitating.

"Oh, I get it," he said, coming to one of his epiphanies... and she knew something was about to go very, very wrong.

As it neared her, the hole opened dramtically wider - still not thick enough to entertain a cock comfortably, but certainly a drastic improvement over a non-tool-assisted endeavor - only there was one problem. One procedural failure.

Which hole was opening.

She felt his hips unceremoniously slap into her upturned ass sideways, and immediately lost control of her body as a shockwave went through it and then exploded in her brain. Her entire body twitched around him as it came to terms with what had just happened.

Her voice wouldn't come out - everything was silent, aside from the buzzing coming from within her upturned rear as his cock-ring sang inside of it.

She had felt it go in - there was no margin for error regarding her anal maidenhood. The sudden, surprising loss of her anal virginity was the least of her problems, however, as she had felt a lot more sonically-lubricated dick pass through her vibrating, defenseless ring in the milliseconds since her dim-witted lover had made a fatal error in his love-making algorithm.

She felt something, at least, on her pussy - his balls, and realized that her idiot lover had just fed her virgin shitter his entire cock - all in one go. She couldn't even be angry. She knew without detailed instructions, he always managed to cock things up. Only this time, "things" were her brown hole, and he had "cocked it up" in a very, very literal way.

Her ass was on fire - if she had a voice, she would have been using it quite liberally. If the knowledge and sensation of having sex for the first time wasn't overriding her reason, she would have gone completely limp - indeed, if the sonic lubricator wasn't present, she was pretty sure she would have immediately died. Still, while the sonic lubricator had done a bang-up job lubing her previously un-charted anal passage, that's all it had done - it was still completely uncharted territory, now hopelessly cramped with a big dick that, vibrations aside, was still insistently prying open her soft anal muscles. He had just blasted her ass in every sense of the word, and her lust was barely edging out the painful, uncomfortable sensation of having an entire dick ramming into and now sitting inside her bowels.

She still had it in her to roll her eyes, though - Luke was such a fucking idiot. But... he was her idiot, now, it seemed. She felt a swell of emotion - which was immediately replaced by the sensation of her foolish lover beginning to thrust in and out of her ass, and she wondered which one of them was going to be dead by the end of the night.

With a deep-throated groan, she felt the depths of her bowels invaded by the big, vibrating, pulsing cock, and realized it was too late for course correction - she couldn't risk her magnificent specimen having second thoughts after being told that his forceful entry was into the completely wrong testing apparatus, and she would not endure the time away from it as they disinfected it and she gave her lab assistant a crash course in the female pubic region, particularly the vulva, lest she next experience the thrilling sensation of her lovable idiot's cock penetrating her urethra and giving her bladder a good stuffing. Her rectum and bowels would have to suffer the indignity and soreness instead, and she would have to accept losing her overripe virginity to the man she loved with the same hole her college roommate entertained strangers with in drunken throes of passion. She was so lost in thought and decision for the first few seconds that, teeth gritting and fist clenching aside, her outward appearance was a muted one, and she'd received half a hundred powerful thrusts up her defiled poophole before she returned to her senses and uttered the loaded phrase "my ass..."

That seemed to encourage him more than anything, and she moaned and groaned as he gave her fat butt a good drilling. The sonic lubricator stuck in place around her asshole, giving him a pretty solid target that meant he could easily slip it in over and over again without a change of pace or accidental slippage. She didn't know what Masters-level anal sex entailed, but she was pretty sure she was taking a crash course on it.

She could feel her womb aching to be filled as her bowels were instead, but deep down, she knew it - this was how her virginity went. Not with a cervix-tickling, but with a rectal massage that she would never forget.

Just imagining the width and length of it, vibrating in her pussy, was enough - even as it blew up her ass instead. She'd never fantasized about anal, but she HAD fantasized about being plugged by his dick, and while the sensation was very different from her fantasy, the general gist of it was there. She felt positively stuffed - in the wrong hole, sure, but what he lacked in accuracy he more than made up for in precision. Over and over her ass was reminded of its current purpose, with an intensity and insistence that made it difficult to remember her intended cock-socket, even as it was stretched and molded in ways that were clearly not intended by its design - when he bottomed out, she was pretty sure the rod embedded stiffly up her butt was keeping something straight that had a natural bend, and that having all of her rings open at once wasn't the natural way of things.

If Idiot-kun noticed that he was churning her butt-butter on the cold floor of the lab, he was all too happy to, and she spread her legs slightly to take his empassioned gut-stabs in relative comfort, conveniently re-positioning his angle of attack such that he was slamming his cockhead into her internal girl-parts, if only through the walls of her burning rectum. If the "experiment" was teaching her nothing else, it was that even in the unlikely circumstances, quivering, lip-biting cervical orgasms find a way. In other words: getting gouged out in her shithole was doing the job anyway.

As he thrust erratically into her rectum, he was hitting all the right spots - and all the wrongs spots, too. Basically, his random stabbings into her guts was leaving her simultaneously aroused, stretched, cramping, lustful, and sore. He was forcing her vestigial anal glands to secrete like an animal, forcing her anal rings to expand and contract in all the right and wrong ways, and forcing her inner sphincter open over and over again in a way that she was pretty sure was bad for her long-term use of it, but very good for his short-term use for it as a masturbatory aide. She had no idea if she was doing what she was supposed to be doing as an anal sex recipient, as she'd, y'know, slept in during that particular class, but it didn't really matter; he was getting off with it either way, in ways that she'd never anticipate a man would make love to her tight stinky butt button. She had spent little time fantasizing about carnal uses for her excretory organs, her presently-plundered donut hole included, but she had to admit that the mechanics of butt stuffing, at least as her misguided lover implemented it, was a true and proper substitute for the gold standard. Despite her mortifying sexual inexperience, she was pretty sure that she could, at the very least, expect a follow-up booty call at some point - even if that call involved a lot more sexual activity with her booty than she would have ever dreamed about, which was none, compared to the all-out anal fuckfest that she was currently enduring and would likely experience in the future.

She whined - she was nearing a breathy climax, to be sure, but the sonic lubricator was definitely going to need an adjustment if it was going to be used for the same purpose in said future; she could tell she was going to be making use of a specially-designed butt cushion for at least a few days following her "deflowering". She had anticipated some discomfort, maybe even pain from her initial sexual encounter, and her hypothesis had been correct, but the root cause wasn't what she had theorized. She turned up her hips and spread her legs a little wider to give him an easier target - taking a big cock in her unused asshole was one thing, taking it sideways was another.

She had no illusions that their current copulation would result in a baby, but took solace in the knowledge that her future baby would be happy that mommy had finally gotten the gusher she'd been so desperately craving, even if it was while entertaining a stupid man with the squishy business end of her digestive tract, making embarassing sounds as he plunged the vibrating monster into her utterly confounded anal hole. Rather than a wet, sloppy sound, it sounded more like someone getting their finger repeatedly stuck in a bowling ball.

His balls kept slapping against her unused vagina in an almost taunting way - not only did it highlight what was going unused, it meant that what she wanted from him and where it was supposed to go were mere centimeters apart. She didn't even mind having to take it in the ass - she could lube up some things in the lab and he could stuff them up her ass until she looked like a science peacock for all she cared, as long as that baby batter got dumped in her quivering pussy as she settled on a baby name.

"I'm... nngh... mmm... I... nnh... love you!" she stammered out, and then her body seized up, her abdomen and chest getting tight, as her eyes rolled up into her head, where no coherent thoughts could register of the encroaching storm, and the dam broke, and she splattered the floor with untouched nectar while the dim realization that she'd just confessed her love to the man drilling for oil up her ass fought against a wave of almost toxic pleasure for control of her mind. She winced as her sphincters unwittingly constricted around him - which he powered through, which made her grit her teeth, but did nothing to diminish the heat or intensity spreading down her thighs and to the tips of her toes, up her back to the nape of her neck.

"I... just came. Fuck... fuck me! Harder!" she heard someone else say with her voice, and her compliant, if stupid, partner doubled up his efforts, making her scratch the floor with trimmed nails as the average pressure in her bowels likewise, doubled, sending a column of thick probabilistic dick right up her ass, straight upward until it felt like it was in the small of her back and the pit of her stomach at the same time. She had no idea how fast he was thrusting - it felt like just a constant vibration and intensity in her entire anal passage, her rectum unwillingly expanding to catch all the quantum fuck being blasted up into it. She knew, at that moment, that it had not only been her voice asking for more, it was her.

She didn't doubt that he was going to pop while they were still having anal sex - she had no delusions about getting that sperm bomb where it belonged - but she did worry that with the amount he had saved up, aided by the serum, that she was about to get it firehosed up her extracurricular fudge tunnel with enough force and volume to permanently stain her insides white - or, at least, permanently reshape her plumbing to be more like semen tank than a fudge factory. She debated telling him to finish it on her face, but worried not only about him missing her glasses and blinding her, but about the possibility that he might take that to mean he had free reign to slip it through her lips and blast her mouth the way he was currently blasting her ass. Not only would that mean swallowing down a soda bottle's worth of semen that was thick enough to cut with a knife, likely upsetting and stretching her stomach, bruising her lips and throat, and dribbling out of her nose, it also would mean getting a faceful of butt-flavored wingwang courtesy of her own butt, and there was limited scientific utility in knowing what it would taste like if she stuck her tongue up her own butthole. So she kept her lips sealed, less her idiot lover give her the pornstar treatment, forcing her to developer her own new prototype toothpaste. She doubted his cock would pass the sniff test after vigorously pounding out her ass, so keeping it where it was meant the lesser of two or three evils. 

She felt a sudden, hot blast of goo in a rather unromantic portion of her anatomy, and knew that perhaps the most potent sperm known to man was now trapped in thick enough to chew semen, itself on a directed course to someplace that was definitely not her womb - her cramping stomach, where they would meet a rather ignoble end, and then an unceremonious burial would follow as she flushed all that super-sperm right down a toilet. 

In other words, he had just creamed in her ass. Big time.

She felt her belly distend slightly to accommodate the load and knew that her intestines were getting stuffed full of that one-shot impregnating goo, and fantasized about one of her eggs quantum tunneling into her rectum and then back, just to balance out the probabilities. She shuddered through another, more low-key if still toe-curling orgasm as she felt the hot jet spray into the wall of her rectum that touched up against her uterus. She imagined herself sitting on a tupperware with a turket baster in hand - not the way she had imagined conceiving but necessity is the mother of invention - but as she came down off her lusty high, the idea seemed less appealing. She knew that the rectum and large intestine are several degrees warmer than the vagina - meaning that all those super sperm were roasting in her previously sperm-free oven, no matter how inviting and accommodating her ass-tunnel seemed to him, his cock, and his misguided swimmers and accompanying goo. She'd never considered herself much of a cook, but she was definitely making a roasted sperm pudding in her bowels - even as he pumped more and more of it inside, to her groaning, growing, uncomfortable tummy's dislike. She was still turned on enough that the tightening in her hot, soupy, waterlogged guts didn't bother her much, but she had a vague understanding that as the amount inside her increased, and her lust cooled, she was going to desire to do what he was doing - ejecting semen, forcefully, from inside of her. A firesale in the lab - everything must go. She'd never expelled semen from her cummed out butt before, but she was sure it was something humans could learn to do quite easily. 

He pumped his hot sauce into her fat virgin ass one heaping helping at a time all over her late lunch, hard enough that not only could you hear her stomach churning, you could hear it thumping against her insides with force, as rope after rope shot in and contributed to the flooding in her dark tunnels. She drank his soup with her wrong hole, gulping it down for no real reason other than a mis-aimed hip thrust several minutes prior. She felt it pooling her expanding gut, a spontaneous lake of semen in her bowels that she was going to have to wiggle her hips later to dislodge. A teaspoon of it would be enough to get her pregnant, but she had enough training in biology to know that "majorly butt pregnant" wasn't an actual thing, despite what her distended large intestine and her prominent tummy bulge were telling her sensory systems. She knew it was more like she'd eaten too much - even as he continued to forcefeed more bowel-irritatingly hot semen into her freshly-christened jelly-belly. She felt like her eyeballs were floating.

He was cumming enough in her ass that she was pretty sure he found her attractive, so there was one insecurity speared through and fill with jizz. He filled every nook and cranny - nowhere in her bowels wasn't inundated by her (hopefully) new boyfriend's cum, except for the conspicuous region that was instead stuffed with his cock.

The feeling of being so full made her cum again - a small, frustrating orgasm, but one she couldn't deny - and around the same time, she heard him clear his throat, indicating in his own, stupid way that he was done using her stretched out asshole as a glorified cock-holster/semen-tank/pussy and that she could go back to using it for whatever purposes it served for her when his balls didn't need a place to stash their excess spooge.

If she had gotten him to use a condom, she would have still gotten a big hot surprise right up the shitter, but when he was done she would have at least had a shot at using his genetic material for some egg-basting. But she probably should have thought of that before he flooded her intestines with semen. Now she would get as much benefit from drinking her anal cocktail as putting it inside her nether regions.

When the last of his gargantuan load had been spent in her bubbling blasted bowels, he pulled out, sheepishly, her hips briefly following him for fear that he would pull her insides outside along with his cock. Thankfully, he popped free, leaving her crater of an asshole to wonder what the fucking shit just happened to it. It puckered, oblivious, as she calmed her racing heart.

"How's your... ass feel?" he asked, bracing himself for a scolding.

"Like you just fucked it," she said, bluntly.

"Did you... like it?" he asked, hopeful.

"Probably not as much as you did, given how full my guts are. I think I feel your cum in my brain. I'm totally full. Do you know what that means?"

"That... you need to use the toilet?"

"That I can't test the sperm enhancing sperm enhancing cocktail, doofus! You shot all of it inside my ass! Nngh... my stomach hurts."

He knelt down next to her and gingerly touched her swollen, drooping belly. "Does that help?"

"I think, but... mmm... think the testing apparatus is gonna leak..."

He didn't respond verbally to that, and after a few moments of feeling his hot hand rub her boiling stomach, she adjusted the lens of her glasses enough of her eye so that she could see what he was doing, and found him staring, fixedly, at her gaping, stretched asshole, and turned a shade of pink that nearly matched her hair.

"What are you looking at?" she asked, although she already knew what her was waiting for: evidence that proved he'd just anally creampied her, like a true scientist.

If he'd dumped it in her pussy, it would have stayed there - instead of drooling out uselessly from her stretched-out butthole, like it was about to. She pushed, delicately, to let out a graceful little glob for his viewing pleasure - knowing full well that if he really wanted a show, and she thought she could endure the embarassment(she couldn't), she could put weight onto her pelvic floor and shoot out a bukkake's worth of cum, spraying it all over the lab floor. Maybe if he leaned in for a closer look... a little vengeance for a hole defiled.

She let it out glob by glob, feeling hot in the cheeks, as he stretched her big cheeks with his fingers to get a good look. She knew he was going to insert a finger eventually, and was just waiting for it. When he did slip one in, she found it was a lot easier to take than his cock had been. When his thumb found its way to her clit, she realized that oh god, oh gooood... hnnn... mmmm... mmmmg... hunh... ha... uhhhh...

When he pulled his finger free and his hand away, she lost all the strength in her legs, and ended up laying flat against the cold floor, legs spread slightly, anus drooling semen. She lay there for several minutes, thinking over the previous few minutes, during which she'd finally had sex with her crush, lost her anal virginity, hard, embarassingly retained her vaginal virginity while having anal for her first time, then received a monster anal creampie courtesy of her beloved, which was still stuffing up her soggy bowels. Her first time was in her shithole, and the only thing she had to show for it was that now she knew how much semen the human rectum could hold before you started to feel queasy.

After cleaning himself off, he helped her up into an embrace, and she gave him a naked hug, her heart still beating faster than normal, her hole still drooling sperm, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, gave him a kiss, and then called him an "idiot". Overall, the true experiment was a success.

While she couldn't judge its effectiveness as a means of impregnation, she found its efficacy as an enema solution to be... outstanding.


	5. Quetzal Goddess

You announce your intention to defeat the Quetzal goddess... but while you speak, she doesn't appear to be listening.

 

"Hmm... okay... yeah... okay..."  
Quetzal Goddess used "Prepare Oils"!  
"Well, I'm going to stuff it up inside you, but do go on... ...whatever you say, my new little breedslave... ...you speak a lot for a toy... ...Aha, right, mmhm, gonna blast your ass once you're done talking, but go on... ...ah, I see... that's a very interesting theory but I don't think you've read the atmosphere... ...you know human, it's really not your mouth hole I'm interested in."  
"...and that's why, I'm going to defeat you!"  
"Yeah... hmph. Time to mate."

You thrust your sword at her exposed belly, and with a whipcrack of her tail, she disarms you. Not only is your sword launched a thousand paces away, but the blade seperates from the hilt entirely, which shatters on impact. The sheer force of the blow knocks you over onto your ass.

Quetzal Goddess used Restrict!

In an instant, you're bound up in her immense tail. 

She slips her claw-like finger under your undergarment, and you feel it rubbing up and down against your ass, and then she effortlessly rips it off your body.

Her lubed up fist grinds agaisnt your rear, absolutely coating the entire region, like she's basting you.

"Virgin sacrifices are tighter sacrifices."

"I'm not... hnn... a virgin... sacrifice...!"

"No? Then why else would you be here? Surely only a fool would come into my lair of their own ill-fated free will. Well, it makes no difference to me. You will do nicely."

"You... won't... win!"

"There's no winner in mating, human."

Quetzal Goddess used Harden!

Her already massive bulge begins to take shape, and the cloth hanging from her waist threatens to tear.

"Stop! It's too big!"

"No. Yours is too small. Once I mate with it, it will be the right size. Forever."

"I can't... nngh..."

"You will accept whatever your goddess gives you, human," she says, sticking in one finger, then the other, then she slowly spreads them, causing you to gape tremendously. Your vision goes white. "Mmm, yes... I can mate with this. I'm sure it will bear me many strong children."

"I'm not the right species! And I'm a man!"

"And yet your hole looks so enticing..." she says, stretching it this way and that with her massive digits, each one as big a human dick. Her curiosity is anally violating you in ways you could have never dreamed of.

"It's not..."

"Where is all your bravado from earlier? Is it escaping? Tell me how you will defeat me 'for justice'. Mmm... you are but a vessel. And I shall fill you. Your goddess shall show you your true purpose. You'll never have use of your sword again. Either of them."

"I... still have... my dignity!"

"What dignity? Your only calling now is as a glorified receptacle for my boiling, deific seed. If you think your life is worth anything more that notion will soon be replaced by the intense heat of your goddess' loins and the sheer volume of her seed."

She turns you around in her grasp, spreading your legs as she holds your arms to your torso with her tail.

"You see, hero? This is when you give a big victory speech. But I'll keep mine short. I am about to enter you. Brace yourself for your goddesses' magnificent, enormous gift!"

There has to be some way to escape, some way to... your eyes lock on to it, free of its cloth prison, and any other thought flees your mind. It's every bit of monstrous and perverse as she is. Your mouth falls open as its unnatural throbbing and engorging replaces all previous nightmares you might have had. Its intense earthy odor and strange fluids make your stomach cramp preemptively, and your finger-stretched hole constricts in protest at the sight of its bumps, ridges, shape, and, of course, size.

If that thing goes inside of you, there's no going back. 

"What IS that? It's huge! That's... don't! Wait! I surrender! I ca--nnnnnngghhhhhh!" *GLORP*

Anal virginity: gone. Dignity: gone. Rectum: full. Colon: full.

"Oagh...!" *SCHLORP* *SCHLORP* *SCHLORP* *SCHLOP* *SCHLOP* *POP* *GLORP* "Hnnyeh...!" * *PLORP* *PLORP* *PLORP* *GLOORK* *GLOORK* *SCHLORP* *POP* *SPLURP* *SPLURP*

You are overburdened! Large intestines: full. Small intestines: full. You are too encumbered to move!

Achievement unlocked: Vessel of the Goddess

GAME OVER. Continue? (Y/N)

...extended...

"What IS that? It's huge! That's... don't! Wait! I surrender! I ca--nnnnnngghhhhhh!" *GLORP*

She pulls you down onto her huge, vulgar thing, and the tip penetrates you before you can finish your sentence. Divorced of air, you feel yourself sliding down the Quetzal Goddesses' oddly shaped phallus, your anus stretching wider than you thought possible. She may not really be a goddess, but her thing is as big as a god's would be.

Not only is it extremely large, it is irregularly shaped - clearly, this is not a phallus designed for penetration of a human, much less a human anus. It would be one thing if it was merely stretching your anus wide - but while you couldn't possibly discern what shape it is based on the sensation you CAN tell that your shithole is not pleased to be accommodating it. If you had to guess, you'd say it has an extreme curvature, both laterally and vertically, with an oddly triangular base. You imagine that if someone had to guess what the phallus that permanently ruined your backdoor looked like, they would immediately be able to pick it out of a lineup.

The barbs running up and down the length were likely designed to induce ovulation or to provoke some other kind of mating response - instead, they scratch and scrape irritatingly at your bowels.

A sticky, sappy liquid occasionally spurts into your innards with such force that at first you thought it was ejaculate - rather, it must be some sort of secretion necessary for quetzal mating, and simultaneously completely unnecessary for the forced interspecies anal mating that you are currently on the receiving end of. The stuff itself is hot - hotter than the cool, irritating phallus punching in and out of your defiled shithole, but hotter even than the very rectum that is being defiled. In spite of this, there is a cool, minty sensation as it touches the walls of your not birth canal - undoubtedly, this would have some physiological effect on an appropriate sexual partner, but for you, it just feels like molten candy cane enema. Unfortunately, it is also an extreme irritant - if her barbed penis wasn't already causing redness of the bowels, this stuff would be. It is profoundly itchy, even externally as it drips down over your balls. Every time her one-eye spurts it inside, you feel a bit of your dignity wash away.

Her erratic doublethrusts are clearly designed with a particular mate in mind - it's such an obviously unnatural rhythm for a human rectum that you are completely at the mercy of her pace - failure to place your hips possibly for the next impending double pound would mean that your rectum would be stretched out in new, uncomfortable ways. So, much to her amusement, you've learned a particular mating dance to receive her, one whose tempo is determined entirely at the whims of your "goddess". A disgusting, sloppy sound reverberates throughout the arena as you're defiled, unable to stop the anal assault for even a moment of respite.

You suddenly feel the barbs lift up and descend like the frills on a lizard's neck, and the entire thing vibrates. The liquid from earlier is still there, but no more is pouring out - it seems her mating comes in phases. With the barbs out like they are, she can't really move it in and out, and any amount of movement is excrutiating. She seems to get amusement out of tugging on it; there's no way it could be pulled free, but your groans as you feel it scraping against your rectal walls are met with moans of pleasure from her.

She continues to fuck you with the expansion and contraction of the large part in front of the barbs - occasionally tugging on the whole thing to remind you that it isn't coming out anytime soon. However, that "soon" may come sooner than she expected, you realize, as her grip tightens around you.

Between said tightening and the end to her testing of her anal seal, instead opting to keep her phallus deep inside of you, you have no doubt about the awful fate that awaits you: insemination, quetzal goddess style.

You brace yourself for a forceful ejaculation - no doubt the powerful throbbing you feel is the flexing of her ejaculatory muscles, intent on shooting her quetzal sperm as powerfully as possible, her swimmers searching for ovaries that it is highly doubtful they will find. 

"Yesss, human... accept it!"

It turns out that bracing oneself for anal insemination looks a lot like acceptance of an anal insemination - your anal muscles are as relaxed as possible, given the circumstance, you've spread your legs, you've long since given up your struggles to free yourself from her powerful grasp, and you're clearly waiting for her to drop a load inside of you that will fill you to the eyeballs.

"Such obedience is to be rewarded... accept your goddesses' bountiful gift, worthless human, and embrace your true purpose..."

You feel a cool spray of what feels like the same minty liquid as earlier, hosing in all directions without much force, soaking you deep inside. You're surprised at how tame her ejaculation is... until you realize that her phallus is throbbing more and more, and she's gone short of breath. That wasn't her ejaculate. That was preparation.

A shockwave travels through your entire body, followed by an intense heat, and you look down to see... your stomach, looking six... no, seven month's pregnant. Then ten month's pregnant, as a second, equally powerful eruption sears your insides.

Like her thrusts, it comes in 1-2 bursts, bruising your bowels wherever the forceful jet slams against them. They're so forceful that the area around her spewing monster cock is still dry until the fifth and sixth shots - which is, perhaps not coincidentally, when her ejaculation stops - but not her insemination, which continues as a thick sludge that begins to work its way up your bowels, displacing the tremendous creamstorm she just filled you with further and further up your digestive tract.

As she continues to pour her semen inside of you, she finally releases you - but even if you had the energy to crawl away, her spines are still lodged inside your rectum. She lays on her side against the ground, and you stay on your knees, feeling it bloating you more and more.

"You're welcome, human," she says, sprawling herself out lazily along the cold ground, but you aren't about to thank her for her 'gift'.

After minutes of being filled, you feel the barbs retract, and she pulls it, with some effort, from your devastated hole. The thick sludge has hardened enough that you can't push it out, so that all of her sperm is still bloating your soggy intestines, making you feel very little like a human male.

Your anus is stretched terribly and awkwardly by her ill-fitting and strangely shaped penis - it will likely never return to a normal shape. You doubt any other human's butthole could end up as tragically and weirdly misshapen unless they too had been a victim of the Quetzal's harsh, alien mating.

You watch as her monster dong deflates - apparently that is anatomically similar. 

"Well, you certainly tamed part of me. I will be of no danger to anyone during my entire refractory period. You've sealed the savage monster for... oh, 5 minutes."

She presses her finger down on your stomach, causing you to groan in pain and your body to break out in a sweat.

"Oh, the plug. We aren't ready for sleep, human, so I will give you mercy..." she says, rolling you over onto your overly-full stomach. With deadly precision, she carves out around the edge of the 'plug', then pulls it out entirely, causing a cascade of cum to come out of your fist-sized hole. You feel it running out, and don't even bother to roll over again.

5 minutes pass.

"A great and terrible power has awoken! I hope you're ready for seconds, hero. Your goddess is."

You still haven't released all of the naga's old, cooling sperm before she penetrates you again.


	6. Raquel POV

You've got some time to spare before your flight departs, and just before you reach for your phone to get an uber, you spot her. She's gorgeous. She's wearing jean shorts and a top that leaves very little to the imagination; she's got dyed purple hair and matching lipstick offsetting her dark complexion, big, full breasts that don't seem veryt shy, tanlines that suggest even more scandalous beachwear, and she's looking at you with a knowing smile on her face.

You roll your luggage over to the outdoor seating where she's sipping on a cocktail, knowing full well how pointless that is.

"Hey there," you say, unsure.

"Hey you. Got someplace to be?" she says, eyeing your luggage.

"Flight takes off a little over an hour, but I just had to walk up and say hi."

"Oh yeah? Why's that?"

"Well... I've seen a lot of good looking women during my stay here, but none have..."

"I get it. Mmmm, you're in luck. My boyfriend's working overtime. Apparently one of his coworkers set a world record. Why don't you have a seat with me?"

Obediently, you sit across from her... and feel her foot, free of her thong sandal, running up and down your lower leg, but she doesn't call any attention to it.

"So... you're about to fly a few thousand miles away, and you strike up a conversation with a pretty girl? You must be pretty quick to the punch."

You avoid saying that she seems... even quicker. "I... don't really know what I was thinking," you say, and she smirks.

"I can guess," she says, running her foot over your crotch, which is rather prominent. "I'm guessing you haven't scored at all, huh?"

"N-no..." you admit, as she rubs you with her bare foot over your khakis.

"Like I said, you're in luck, then... as long as... I'm in luck."

She flicks her gaze downward, then back up at you, then down again, then up again, and you piece it together. Working off one shoe with the other, you graze her leg with your sock-clad foot, up to her tiny shorts... where you find that your reciprocation is a bit more symetric rather than reciprocal than you thought.

When you don't remove your foot, she smiles, a rosy blush coming on to her face, visible even against her dark skin. "Well, I suppose lucky lucky is right. Sorry, my poor, overworked boyfriend," she says, then kills the rest of her glass.

She bids you to follow her into a nearby cluster of trees that winds between two buildings, giving little visibility to either street, then tells you to kneel against one. As you look down at the place where she's telling you to kneel, you hear her pants button snap undone.

"Here?" you say, a little disbelieving.

"I wouldn't want you to miss your flight, cutey. Hurry up, before someone sees us."

You feel a rush of heat in your cheeks as you imagine that, then, feeling short of breath, kneel in front of her - of course, given that you're the one kneeling, you basically know what to expect.

"Mmm... how do you feel about smuggling something of mine on your way out?" she says as she zips down her fly. You expect her to pull herself out through it, but instead, she hooks her thumbs by her rear and pulls them down partway, underwear and all, and she flops out in front of your face and... yep, that's a dick, alright. It's bigger than you expected, but it doesn't smell bad at all - still, you can feel a phantom pain in your jaw.

"Are we... really doing this?" you ask her, the suddenness of it all giving you a headrush.

"Well, you're not dreaming, honey," she says, rubbing it against your cheek. "Wish I had time to really give you a good time, but some things can't be rushed," she adds, and the thought of kneeling on the ground in the dirt getting fucked in the ass for the first time without any preparation does sound like something better left avoided. When you look back up at her, she seems expectant. "Well... it's not going to kiss itself."

"I've never done this before."

"I know - I'm about to fix that. Open wide, cutey."

You hesitate, as she gets harder and longer in front of your eyes. 

If she was trying to reassure you, she had an odd way of showing it - repeatedly thwacking her hard meat on your face impatiently. You'd seen enough porn to know what that meant. "Open up," she says, plainly. There's no force in her voice, but it's obvious that she knows she's about to get her dick sucked better than you do.

You're surprised with the deftness with which she inserts herself into your mouth as soon as your cockhole is made available - that is, you open it slightly and her dick goes right inside, just like that. She must have a lot of experience getting fellated on a deadline. 

As she places it rather without pomp or circumstance in your mouth, she shudders, then puts her hand gently on your face as she begins to fuck it. Your lips experience their first taste of her dick, although it could be more accurately called a sensation - the smooth skin of her penis sliding roughly against them.

"There we go. I was really worried when I heard that your flight was in an hour that you were gonna be the one that got away."

...although, you think, since you're still leaving on that plane, the only thing she's going to 'get' out of you is a big, fat, doesn't-even-know-your-name beej.

"Suck it hard, honey. Clock's ticking."

You hesitantly obey, even as she starts to pull on your hair, forward and back. She moans, loudly - probably too loudly given the covert oral sex you're engaging in. 

You settle into a rhythm of hoofing her boner as she... checks her phone. When you spit our her dick to complain, she slips her phone back into her pocket. "Sorry, was just letting my boyfriend know where I was."

"You told him... you're getting a blowjob?"

"No, I showed him."

"You... took a picture?!"

"Yeah, sorry. I thought you noticed. Come on, hurry up, before you miss your flight," she says, and you're too stunned to protest as she pushes it back between your lips. With both hands on your head, now, she shoves it in deeper, and deeper... until you're gagging.

"Don't feel bad about choking on it - just means you have a working gag reflex. Though I guess that won't be for long, once you find a nice girl wit ha dick back home, huh?" she asks, and you just sputter around her cock in response. The sloppy sounds of irrumatio fill the alleyway as you slurp, sputter, and gag around her chocolate popsicle.

Eventually, you hear footsteps, and panic, but she just takes a step forward and buries it down your throat. "If we're close like this, no one can tell."

If she means no one can tell what you're doing is illegal - fat chance. It just looks like you're eating her out, instead. All it really hides is that her big dick is throbbing in your mouth and throat. You don't think the police  
will care much for whether you're gulping down her meat-kebab or her fish taco when it comes time to slap the cuffs on.

Saliva is dripping down your chin, so her big, full nuts are coated in it as they slap repeatedly against it - you've never gotten a BJ this sloppy, but you sure are giving one. And the amount of salty dick in your throat is starting to make you feel queasy.

"You're not going to throw up. You've got this," she says, assuring you, even as her hips keep doing the one thing that will really put that theory to the test. She rolls them forward, bottoming out her cock between your lips just barely, then back, pulling it out smoothly, then back in again - a surprisingly elegant way of fucking a mouth. Each time she does, her dyed purple pubic hairs tickle your nose inside and out, which isn't helping, and you wonder if the person sitting next to you on the plane is going to notice a purple pubic hair sticking out of your nose or mouth and piece it all together like a forensic scientist.

You reach up to cup her breast under the top, and she moans. You play with her nipple as she plays with your tonsils, until finally she grabs your hand and pulls it down, bringing it underneath her intermittently disappearing-into-your-face schlong, where it finds itself cupping her balls, and she gives you a little nod, as if to say, "all for you." You had felt them slapping into your chin, but now you can really feel their texture, warmth, and fullness. She's going to cum in your mouth, you realize, and as you look up at her, you see that she's thinking the exact same thing.

"Look up at me," she says, somewhat hoarsely. "I'm going to give you something to remember me by."

You do, staring up at her lips as they quiver, and her eyes as they stare fixedly at you, feeling, but not seeing, as she pistons herself in and out of your mouth. You can taste the increased precum volume, and you can tell based on how pointed her thrusts are that she's trying to gum up the works in a bad way.

She bites her lips, then blows you a kiss as her dick twitches in your mouth... and a second later, the first part of you to know what's happening is the back of your throat as something hot, wet, sticky and thick splats against it, and as the bitter stuff runs down your throat into your stomach, you recognize it as the first rope of her hot, uncaught cum. Right, no condom.

Getting it sprayed onto the back of your throat makes you retch and gag, so she pulls back some for the second blast all over your uvula - and the third, which gives your tonsils an emasculating saucing. She runs her cumming cock over your tongue while drooling spermgoo all over it, shooting rope after rope into your mouth while coating your tastebuds in her tangy flavor. Any hope that she'd baste your face with the rest of it is dashed as she turns your head to the side to give your inner cheek a good scrub, filling it with creamy genetic material as she does.

"Wow, my dick's clean. Good job," she says, looking down at you, your cheeks full. You motion to spit, and she puts her fingers to your lips. "Now now, don't be a quitter. That's all you, cutey. Swallow it."

You gulp.

You've already swallowed some inadvertantly, but swallowing that much at once really brings out the cum texture and flavor, a hot, goopy mess of her nutbutter sliding down your throat slowly, salty and slimy and bitter. You gag dryly and shudder as you gulp the payload, and she smirks down at you as you struggle to swallow her cum and keep it down. You burp lightly, and she slaps your cheek with it as it deflates. 

If anyone heard the very sloppy sounds as she came and you swallowed it all, they didn't bother to investigate further. She pulls up her pants and zips them up. As she fastens the button, she pauses to look down at you. 

"Nice to meet you. Now go hurry up and catch your flight, cutey."

Later, you do a breath check as you wait in line to take your shoes off, and, yep, smells like her cum. After swallowing that much, you'd be more surprised if you didn't have a major case of cum-breath.

As the plane takes off, you suddenly remember what she'd said - as you smuggle her DNA, still cooling in your belly, out of the country.


	7. Professional

She watched him, pretending like he hadn't seen her, like he didn't know she was there, like he didn't know what street he was on or why he was there. She watched him check his phone, check his pockets, check his hair in his reflection in a car window, then remember he had a selfie function on his phone's camera. He didn't like what he saw there, so he adjusted his hair, then looked at his reflection in the car window, then mussed it up, looked at his phone, patted it down, looked at the car window, mussed it up. 

She watched him pace and gently lean against traffic poles and fire hydrants; she watched him pretend to get a text so that he turned around, busily hurrying coincidentally back towards her alley. She watched him steal a glance at her just for a moment, just long enough before his eyes shifted elsewhere, and she watched his eye widen in panic for just that moment as they made eye contact, her gaze unwavering.

She watched him walk past, then amble back into view, looking at his phone and not at her, looking down at his phone and not at her, looking past his phone and not at her. She watched him shift his way of standing to hide an increasingly visible erection. To attempt to hide it, he did. 

They were maybe a car's length apart, now, only in terms of depth, from the sidewalk to where she was leaning casually against the wall in the alley, presenting herself, but no cars seperated them. Nothing did but a bit of distance - a few paces, and he could be in conversation distance. A few paces more, and he could feel her breath. A half-pace, and... 

She considered speaking to him. Reassuring him. Teasing him. Taunting him. Asking him if he was lost, or asking him if he'd found what he was looking for. She considered saying something blunt, giving him prices or asking him what he wanted to do with her, or even blunter, inviting him to come over so they could fuck. She considered calling him "cherry boy". But instead, she watched him, and waited. 

He put his phone away, and kept his head down as he walked towards her. She watched him, her jeans stretching slightly to accommodate her growing eagerness as he approached. He saw that, but he didn't look up at her face. He saw that and kept walking, determinedly. 

He opened his mouth to speak, and then saw the writing on the wall, the literal writing on the wall. She let him take it in, her lips sealed. He was going to ask 'how much', like in the movies. But her prices were advertised, spraypainted on the wall next to her, and he couldn't find any words.

He could see that she was fully tumescent, and that she was waiting for him to say something patiently, although her eyes were impatient. 

"I-I... uhm... are those prices..." he says, pointing to the spray-painted prices on the wall.

She looks over at them as if she just now noticed them. "Oh, those? What about 'em?"

"I have s-some money," he says, feeling his wallet through his pants, although she looks down at what's visible next to his wallet, "s-so... so if it's alright..."

She narrows her eyes at him, bringing her finger to her lips. She smiles. "What does it say?"

He blinks, and then looks back at the writing. "Uh... o-oral... twenty-five..."

"Aha?"

"A-anal... fifty...." he continues.

"And...?"

"And... 'virgins eat free'?"

"So... are you?" she asks, and he avoids looking at her face.

"I uh... I... yeah."

"Then you eat free. So follow me," she says, pushing off the wall and then dusting the rear of her jeans off with a few pats as she walks further into the alley.

He follows her a bit, looking out behind him to make sure nobody's watching him, and she positions herself against the wall behind a dumpster. She's visible from the waist up, even from the street, but as he rounds the dumpster, he finds himself swallowing.

She's already undone her belt buckle and is unbuttoning her fly. Her underwear is dark, but see-through, and the thick, full thing inside is threatening to burst free. He watches as she forcefully hooks her thumb under the elastic band and pulls... and as it comes free.

He stares, mouth unintentionally open, at it, its long curve pointing downwards, its throbbing sense of urgency, and her thin finger running up its length towards the tip. 

She's standing behind a well-stained yoga mat that's been unrolled on the concrete floor, and as her finger reaches the end of her long road, she flicks it up to point at him, and then turns it around to curl it backwards, inviting him towards her.

"Go on. No need to hesitate," she says, but he hesitates anyway. "Do you want me to give you instructions, or do you think you can figure it out on your own?"

He swallows, and then gets on his knees on the yoga mat in front of her. He's so close he can smell her - faintly of soapy perfume, faintly of sweat, and he looks up at her with trepidation as he reaches forward to touch it.

"Go ahead. It doesn't bite. Unless you do, then it'll bite back," she says, winking at him as he almost certainly isn't hearing her words, his mouth opening as it gets closer to her flanged end.

He takes it into his hand as she licks her lip, and then inspects it close, but can't find any reason not to take the whole thing into his mouth. Her pouch looks absolutely ready as well, but he's afraid to touch it. 

She casually looks down the alleyway towards the street. "No one there. Our little secret," she says, running her fingers under his chin... while subtly pressing down on his teeth with her thumb, forcing his mouth open wider, her hips gravitating away from the wall and towards his facehole.

She feels his lips close in around her shaft, and she responds by resting her back on the wall, her hands up against it as well, giving him unrestricted access to her arousal. 

"Been waiting for that," she says, looking down at him with lust in her eyes. 

He begins to suck her shaft up and down, with a self-conscious uncertainty. She lets him figure out as he goes, warning him about his teeth the placement of his tongue...

"Here, give me your hands," she says, and he obliges, and she places them on her hips, and then rocks them forward, so that he remains still, and she sinks her cock between his lips. "How's that?"

He makes an approving sound, and she gently fucks his mouth for a bit, before letting him continue to suck on her while gripping onto her hips. She watches people pass by, ignoring her behind the dumpster, or casually glancing at her and then away, not knowing that she's in the middle of getting a blowie.

"So, how's your first time sucking cock?" she asks, looking down at him. "Do you like it?"

"Mmmm," he replies around her, approvingly.

"You're doing pretty well for a first-timer. I can tell you're trying to get it right," she says, running her finger down his wrist. "Is this what you were thinking about while you were looking at me?"

He voices his assent, rather enthusiastically. She hadn't been totally sure when he was pacing around exactly what he wanted to do, but if she had a guess, it would have been sucking her cock.

"I give blowjobs too, you know. I'm flexible. So... how about it. Free of charge," she says, miming a blowjob with her hand.

He pulls his mouth off of her to respond. "You don't want me to suck it?" he asks, and she smiles.

"I never said that. Just offering," she says, looking over again to make sure they aren't gathering attention before looking back down to him. "Go on. Suck it out of me."

He resumes his fellatio without needing to be told twice, the offer of reciprocation having passed its expiry. When she pulls her hips back towards the wall, he follows her, and she places her hands on his head. 

"You want to try taking it all the way?" she asks, and he stares down the shaft that isn't already in his mouth with some reluctance. He steels himself, and presses his head forward while tilting it back, looking up at her, her schlong disappearing down his throat.

As it slides down his throat, her expression changes to one of satisfied surprise. 

"You're a natural... yeah, all the way to the balls, baby..." she says, although she can tell she's already tickling his gag reflex with the tip of her penis. She looks over again to make sure noone is about to hear him gag.

He does, and she wipes the tears from his eyes. "It's alright. Takes a lot of practice to check that gag reflex. You got it, though..." she says, as he tries to take it all down his throat again.

She feels his lower lip press against her balls and smiles. He really is a natural.

"It's my lucky day, it seems..." she says, gently holding his head in place so he knows not to pull back, even as his throat contracts around her, her precum drooling from the tip directly down his throat.

With his lower lip pressed up against her tensing balls, he wonders if she's going to cum.

"You thinking what I'm thinking?" she asks, anticipating his thought, "because I'm thinking you stay like that and I let you eat it all... for free. You hungry, baby? Because I'm thirsty..."

She licks her lips, and he feels her pouch tensing even more... and then she bites her lip, and runs her hands through his hair...

"I've got a thick wad for your belly. I can spit it right down there like this, and I really want to. You gonna swallow my cum?" she asks, and he responds by staring up at her non-verbally. "Or... were you hoping for something else?"

At the mention of something else, his eyes half-close, his desires readable on his face. 

"Okay, okay... I guess you're thirsty too. I wanted you to swallow but... I can't say I'm too disappointed. You'll learn the taste some other time."

She has to do a real negotiation with her goonies not to give the customer his custard right now, but she manages to keep it down as she slides her pole out of his throat and out through his lips with a slurp.

"Just to be clear, you want to be assfucked, right? I didn't read the mood wrong or anything?" she says, reaching down past his back to his ass to grab a handful, pressing her cock inadvertantly against his face in the process.

"Y-yeah," he replies, meekly, before remembering the writing on the wall. He reaches into his pocket for his wallet, but she stops him.

"Cherry boys eat free... and not just with their mouths. Don't worry about the money. Worry about your virginity," she says, thwapping her rigid cock against his face, the semen in her loins still demanding she coat his tonsils.

She reaches behind the dumpster to retrieve something, and her hand emerges pinching a sealed condom. She rips it open, then flexes it a bit, and is about to put it on when she stops.

"You want to put this on me so I can fuck you good?" she asks, and offers it to him, and he takes it with shaking hands. "You've had sex ed, right? Just like putting it on a banana - flip it that way, place it on the end, then roll it all the way down..."

He follows her instructions, rolling it down her shaft until she's covered all the way to the base, leaving a little room at the reservoir, while she watches with approval.

"They probably didn't say so much about what happens next, right? The part where you get on your hands and knees and I fuck you up the ass? Well, first..." she says, reaching behind the dumpster for a half-empty bottle of lube, which she sprays on her coated cock. 

She's thorough about lubing the whole thing up and down, with a thick layer of it sheening even in the dim light of the alley. It looks slick, and her cock is filling the condom like a plump sausage. 

"Pants down, hands and knees, ass this way, boy. Let me show you the part of the video they cut out," she says, and he obeys.

He unbuckles his belt, drops his pants and underwearto his knees, and then gets on his hands and knees on the yoga mat, facing away from her. 

"If I call you 'Jeff', you've got to pull your pants up quietly and get into a squat. Act like we're just hanging out. Got it?"

He nods enthusiastically, looking a little terrified, and she smirks.

"Don't worry, it rarely happens. Like the oxygen masks in an airplane. Just focus on me going up your ass, okay?"

She lubes up his hole, and he shudders, knowing that his virginity's time is numbered. She's methodical, even though she must be rearing to go after getting her dick sucked.

When she does press the tip to him, giving it a small amount of force to try and open him up, he's too tight, and he sighs, feeling the pressure relieved. 

"Relax, it's just you and me. Take your time."

She continues to prod at his hole, giving him time to adjust, until, finally, she manages to slip the very tip inside. She holds her shaft steady, threatening to slip out at any moment, and once she feels the tension falling, she pushes just a bit forward.

The glans slips inside, and he sighs again, feeling her inside of him. 

"Congratulations," she says in a low, breathy tone, a satisfied note in her voice. He wasn't sure if his first time being getting it anally from a prostitute was worth congratulating, but he accepted the praise regardless.

Slowly, but steadily, she worked her way inside of him, looking about to make sure no one was watching her bung a first timer behind the dumpster. His precum drips onto the yoga mat as he feels her grip his waist above the hip, her other hand on her cock guiding it in, before it comes to rest on his ass. 

At that point, her pole is about halfway in, anchored by his anal sphincter, his anus having gobbled up what it could manage to so far. She begins to slowly shift out, then in, working him open while also succumbing to her nut jelly's insistent demands.

When she's managed to get it three quarters of the way about, she stops, pausing to give him time to adjust.

"You feel me?" she asks, and he repeatedly feels the thud in his abdomen as she jerks her cock inside playfully.

"I feel you," he replies, as she continues to thunk it up to the top of his rectal walls.

"You want to feel the rest of me?" she taunts, her thumbs spreading his hole as her fingers grip onto his ass.

"I do," he says, his voice barely wavering.

"Here I come, then. Relax," she says, as she sinks more of it inside, slowly testing the waters. His anus begins to cramp up, so she stops, and rubs his cheek with her hand soothingly until he relaxes, then continues. "This really is your first time, huh?" she asks.

"It is," he says, clearly a bit preoccupied.

"How do you like it?" she asks, with honey in her voice.

"It's... good... you're good..." he says, his knuckles a bit white.

"Thank you... I'm really good with first timers, if I do say so myself. You've almost taken the whole thing. You okay?"

"Yeah... I'm okay..." he says, a bit terse of breath.

She taps her hip against his ass, and whistles. "There you go... I'd have to spread your cheeks to get any deeper."

"Go ahead," he says, insistently, and she giggles.

"Someone's been craving cock," she says, spreading his cheeks with her thumbs to try and bottom out. She sinks another inch in, then lets his cheeks fall back into place, buried all the way to the root. She leans over him and whispers into his ear. "You feel me now?"

His eyes roll into the back of his head as she jerks her whole cock upwards in his rectum. She does it again and he feels the thump in his abdomen, his entire body breaking out in sweat, his precum pooling on the mat.

"I'm straightening you all out. Feels good, right?" she says, running her hands down his body. 

Just then, they hear a voice approaching the alleyway, and his sphincter constricts in a ring around her base. She peeks upwards to see if anyone's coming, and he waits, head down, heart beating fast, for her signal that everything's okay.

"False alarm. It's still just the two of us. Don't worry, you're going to get the whole ass-stuffing you wanted," she says, her own testicles primed and ready to empty.

She reaches under him and grabs hold of his cock, running her fingers up and down it affectionately, his entire body twisting slightly in paroxysms of pleasure.

"You've never done anything with him, right? Mm... good. Remember this," she says, stroking him up and down. "You like to be stroked or are you the type that's all about getting fucked?"

She lets go, and there aren't any objections, so she takes that as a sign of the latter, which she kind of expected. She redoubles her efforts on punching her cock up into his ass, knowing that she'll be doing it the hard way.

"Gonna make you cum..." she says, attempting to dig out his prostate with gusto.

Getting ground in the ass puts him on the razor's edge, and though he doesn't quite know how it's happening, he feels something building and building. She slaps his ass and caresses his hips as she bottoms out repeatedly inside, stirring him up in a way he'd never experienced before.

"You want me to cum inside or on your face?" she asks, and he gets the sense that this isn't an idle question. He debates the merits of each - while he absolutely would love to feel her warm jizz coating his entire face, he wants it in his ass so badly.

"Inside!" he says, and she responds by bringing his upper body up a bit, two fingers touching his lips.

"Kiss," she says, and he does, and she pulls the fingers away slightly. 

"Kiss my fingers when you're cumming," she instructs, and he knows immediately that the next time he kisses her fingers, that's gonna be her cue to fling her gravy all up inside of him, which makes it tempting to kiss her right away, but then he might be left unsatisfied.

With her cock grinding against his asshole and his prostate, he doesn't have to wait too long to see the time for finger-kissing in sight. He'd never cum with his ass before, but he had the sneaking suspicion he was about to, and got his lips ready for the signal to her that she needed to drop bombs in his gut. 

It feels like an itch - or an itch being scratched - or both. He groans and grunts, getting absolutely pounded from behind, her dick spreading open his hole and driving up along his spine, or up into his abdomen with a thunk, his ass being used like a pussy while his cock is getting ready to shoot off of its own accord.

He kisses her fingers, more hoping than knowing that his orgasm is about to break, and she sends her dick all the way up, jamming the works, before nearly fully retracting it and doing it again, and again. The bubble bursts.

"Catch my cum, baby!" she says at the same time as his inhuman growl, his voice pitched, his air restricted, his fingers digging into the stained yoga mat, his cum blasting all over it, adding another stain. 

She feels him tensing around her and sighs as she releases her semen. With one hand on his waist, and one hand on his face, she shudders, shooting her personal load inside of him, filling a condom with jizz inside the altar of his lost virginity.

She runs her finger over his tongue and his lips while he comes down off his high.

"You come, baby?" she asks, casually, as if she didn't know.

"Y-yeah..." he says, hoarsely.

"Mmm, so did I. I'll show you, if you're okay with me pulling my whole dick out of your ass," she says, coyly.

"Yeah... you can..." he says, still breathing heavily.

She pulls it out, condom and all, and her heels click on the concrete as she walks around him to show him the results of his devirginization. He looks at the full, drooping condom reservoir with stunned fascination.

"All for you, baby," she says, pulling it off of her while pinching it in her fingers. "You want to keep it, as a souvenir? It was your first time after all."

She holds it in front of his face, and he nods, so she ties up the end into a knot while he struggles to pull up his pants. When he stands up, he reaches into his pocket to pull out his wallet, and pulls out several bills before handing them to her sheepishly. 

"This a tip?" she asks, and he nods, gesturing with his hand for her to take it. "Thanks. Be sure to bring your ass back around here soon. <3"

She gives him the filled condom, and a peck on the cheek, and he leaves the alleyway, a little more knockkneed than before he went in.


	8. Maid to Order

You had placed an ad... a maid, willing to do whatever you need, with a good disposition and a good body, that you were sure was never going to work. The ad, not the maid. Even though the salary was high for a housekeeping position, it was obvious what a job offering like that would entail, and girls willing to do THAT for money had other, more profitable venues. But alone in that opulent house, that had passed from generation to generation,you were tired of finding a working girl willing to drive or be driven up into the mountains to perform her... services. Someone who could live there and cater to your needs was what you really wanted - but money could only take you so far. Surely, no one who had the attributes you desired would debase themselves in such a way.

But one day, on a dreary evening, when the light of the sun was dying, an aura of red painting the sky just above the horizon, all the phones in the house rang out, the silence of your solitude shattered by a cacophony meant to alert a staff of twenty - but you were all alone. No one ever called. Was it a salesman? A debtor? An attorney, calling about the will of some forgotten relative? Or a mistake? It was none of these things - although, in hindsight, the latter wasn't far from the truth. You, with slight hesitation, reach for the phone, placing your glass full of gold and diamonds next to the ringing telephone, which, until moments ago, you were not sure was still functional.

Placing the earpiece to your ear, you recline into your seat, slowly. You drag the cord over your knee to create some slack, but you are otherwise perfectly still. "Hello?" you ask, uncertain.

"Hello... I'm calling about the ad in the paper," a woman's voice says... chipper, mostly, but with an edge of sultriness that makes you sit upright. A prostitute, likely, you think, but better a port in the storm than alone adrift."Is this the right number?" 

"Yes, yes, it is," you reply, although you can't be certain she's calling about the same ad. "Are you... interested in the position?"

"Very interested," she says, sounding excited, and a little bit sultry still, "I think I'd be perfect for the job. You can expect service with a smile."

"I see. You believe you have the... qualities that are required?" you ask, trying to picture her from her voice. You hope she's, at the very least, well-endowed. 

"Oh, yes. I have a good disposition... and I definitely have a good body... and I'm more than willing to do what you need. All that and more," she says, now more sultry than not. You place the receiver to your ear as tightly as you can,hanging off her every word. You try to keep your eagerness out of your voice.

"And... what types of services do you offer... aside from cleaning?" you ask, your knuckles white with anticipation.

"Oh... I'm sure I don't know what you mean, but if you mean what I think you do... I'm definitely game for oral service. And I can cook," she says, although you find it strange that she would be advertising that particular skill when the subtext of the conversation is quite clear, at least to you. Sweaty in the palms, now, you lick your lips. One more question, and then she can answer the rest... in person.

"And... how do you feel about... submission?"

There's a long pause. You press the earpiece so tightly against your ear that it hurts, not wanting to miss her response. You can hear her breathing, so you know she's still there... and then, after a perfectly sultry hum, she answers.

"Oh, I love it."

\---

She arrives that night, after a few hours, and by then the sky has given itself over completely to the dark. A woman willing to do that on such short notice you doubt very much was not a whore at some point, at least, but when she arrives, your doubts and concerns are both alleviated, as she arrives wearing a slutty french maid outfit, with barely any other luggage, leaving no question as to her chosen profession.

"Hello, master! My name is Viola," she says, as you open the door to behold her in full for the first time. Her hair is a violent shade of purple, clipped over one eye, done up in large, unruly pigtails, crowned by a lace headpiece. She's wearing a choker, but is otherwise bare between her chin and her breasts, which are almost visible behind lace trimming. Her sleeves are short, leaving her shoulders uncovered, and she has elbow-length gloves that matched her hair. Most bold of all is her skirt...which covers neither her thighs, nor, you are sure, even from the front, her rear - though there is likely no one around for miles, you still feel embarrassed on her behalf knowing that her panties are exposed for any to see.

You are somewhat... disheartened. You wonder how long it will be before she brought up price. You doubt that you can keep her longer than the night; after all, she likely has other appointments to keep.

"Hello... come in."

She glides in past you, with a pep in her walk and a servile smile on her face, and as she passes you notice that you were right - her skirt does essentially nothing to hide her underwear, which is white, frenchcut and frilly,although you only get a moment of watching it before she spins around and bows.

"Thank you for taking me into your home, master! Is there anything you need... right now?" she asks, and you consider it, but ultimately shake your head "no".

"I'd like to... interview you," you say, trying to gauge her reaction.

"Oh, of course! I'm sorry for getting ahead of myself, master. You don't mind if I call you master, do you, master?"

You blush. "No, that's... fine. Why don't we speak in the study?"

"Lead the way, master," she says, smiling with teeth. You think for a moment that if she leads the way, you can get a better view of her maidly undergarments, but, of course, she doesn't know the way, so you lead on ahead, keeping an eye on her, in case this beautiful girl happens to have sticky fingers; not that she'd be able to steal a bust or a vase without you noticing, as her luggage is too small and her clothing too tight to hide anything that large.

You enter the study, and the light from the grounds is the only light in the room - the way you prefer it. You sit in the master chair and pull the metal cord for the lamp on the adjacent table so that there's enough light for conversation. She follows behind you and places her luggage down. Rather than taking the seat opposite you, both of which face askance towards the large glass windows opening out to the grounds, she stands beside it, unwilling to sit, her hands folded over her apron. For a moment,you tell her to sit... but then you realize that she's waiting for you to give her permission to sit, and decide it's better if she continues to do so.

"So, you said on your phone that you were... qualified?"

"Oh, yes, master. I'm... meticulous, and thorough. And I know quite a lot about submission. If you'll have me, I think you'll see that you won't ever be able to get rid of me."

She continues to smile obsequiously, putting on her best impression of an eager dog, the kind that will come back to you no matter how many times you kick it. You find it... endearing. Something about her eyes makes it difficult to even look away.

"And you meant what you said about... service? That you'll provide it?"

"Mmm... that I'll provide what, now?" she says, licking her lips, and bending over slightly so that you can see down her dress.

"...oral service," you say, feeling flustered.

Her smile widens ever-so-slightly, so that you can just see her canine teeth. "Of course, master. I'm a full-service maid. Do you want to look over the contract of employment now?"

"You have one prepared?" you say, suspiciously. You hadn't planned on even drafting a binding contract until after she... well, until after she gave it up, but, if the need arises, you can always amend the one she's brought.

"Of course, master. It's my duty to serve you," she says. "If you don't want to commit to anything just yet, that's okay, but I'd like for you to look it over."

You nod, and she rifles through her luggage for it. Because it's loose paper packed in with clothing and other items, it's wrinkled and torn, but she smooths it out and places it on your desk as if it wasn't, and then looks at you expectantly.

You read it over carefully. It says she'll attend to all your needs, physical, emotional... a little gauche, perhaps, but the contract is, strictly speaking, a formality. There's nothing particularly outlandish, and you're careful to read every word. There's frivolous child-like terms like not disclosing recipes for meals served to third parties and keeping well provisioned on things like tissues... all in all, it doesn't bind you to anything in particular. You see no reason not to sign it,so you do.

"Of course, I have to sign it, and we'll need a witness, but I think that's all I'll need for now," she says, retrieving the papers from your table and bringing it over to the one adjacent to the chair she isn't sitting in.

Her wording concerns you. What purpose is there to a contract that isn't yet binding? As she brings a gloved finger to her lips and blushes bashfully, you forget your concern.

"Now..." you say, "about that... oral service."

"Hold onto that thought a moment, master," she says, quietly. Before we go any further... you should know that I'm smuggling a twig and berries in my panties."

You nod, dismissing her nonsense... until you try to parse her sentence. She's... what? She doesn't say anything else, just continues to beam at you submissively... although it's feeling less and less submissive the longer she does it,and the more insistently she maintains eye contact, even as you look away.

"You... you're..."

"Fully equipped? Yep. Like I said, I meet your requirements. I have a nice body, a good attitude... and I'm going to do what you need."

You can't believe her audacity. To not bring this up earlier... given, you could have asked, but you thought... it doesn't matter what you thought. You have your curled hand in your mouth, trying to think through what's happening. She's completely wrong-footed you, and you're having difficulty recovering. "And... what do I need?"

Her gloved finger twirls part of her pigtail around and around, before she pushes the whole thing behind her neck, quite exposing it and her breast. She smiles at you devilishly. "Someone to cook for you, someone to clean for you...someone to draw your bath and wash your clothes, to make your bed and water your flowers... in short, someone to take care of you, and all your needs. Whatever those happen to be... whether you realize it or not."

To cook, to clean... all of that, yes, you had anticipated. But you don't like the sound of that last bit. "I think... I think you should leave."

"You want me to leave? Are you sure about that?"

She's stunning, but... knowing what she has between her legs... "Yes, I'm sure. Go."

She hesitates, her finger tracing her copy of the contract. "Well, now that you've signed this... that's prostitution, you know. Not exactly legal, is it? As your maid, I can't disobey master... but if I quit, or heaven forbid I was fired..."

Your jaw drops, and you feel the sweat start to bead on your forehead. "You can't prove I intended to make you prostitute yourself."

She reaches behind herself, and, after a moment of fiddling, produces a recording device - lord knows where she was keeping it. She hits play for just a moment, and you hear your own voice repeating "oral services".

"You're... blackmailing me?"

She hits the record button on the device. "No, master, I'm serving you, like we agreed. Why should it matter what I have between my legs, then, unless..." she says, and holds it closer to you so that you can speak into it, but you remain tight-lipped. "Go on now, and make sure to enunciate clearly. What bearing does what's under my skirt have on my duties outlined here in this contract?"

You sigh. "None."

She stops the recording. "Oh, good! You had me worried for a bit, master. I'm not that type of girl, just so you know," she says, playfully, putting the recording device down on the coffee table next to her. 

"I highly doubt that," you say, and she narrows her gaze for a moment before returning to her faux-chipper self.

"You know, master, you shouldn't judge a book by its cover! Otherwise, that book might pick up the phone and call her lawyer..."

"So that's it, then. I can't fire you, or you'll drag me through the courts?" you say, growing a little testy.

"Oh, no, master! I wouldn't want to see you in trouble, even if you did want to cancel our contract. You can always terminate our agreement early, if you accept the early-termination penalty," she says, her face turning a bit pink.

"And if I accept the... penalty?" you say, mentally preparing yourself to pull out your wallet.

She smiles vibrantly, and puts her fingers to her face as she tilts her chin. "I'll shove my dick in your face and ass holes, master!"

She keeps the smile on her face as she slowly lifts her maid skirt. You can already see it... as it slowly gets erect. It's quite a bit longer than you expected, although you didn't expect it to exist at all.

So that's what she's after, you think. She either gets to keep the job, despite her deception... or she gets off, and scot free. "...you can stay," you say, feeling cheated.

She drops her skirt, and the offending thing is hidden beneath. Knowing that it's there, now, makes it hard to look at her the same way; even without seeing her flush, you know that underneath her skirt she's still sporting a massive boner... one that she got for you, and fully intended to fit into your facehole and... She resumes her perky demeanor. 

So you don't "fire" her after all. She has you record an oral agreement that you're hiring her for the salary as advertised, effective immediately, and explains that she'll mail out the tape to a confidant in the morning. You worry that,now, she's not going to do any work at all... and you sleep with one eye open, unsure of her true motivations.

\---

In the morning, you're woken by a start - a knock on your door. You had locked it as a precaution, but in the haze of sleep, you forget this. "Come in," you say, and as the words leave your mouth, you realize that you'll need to get up to let whoever it is in.

The door opens, and in comes Viola, your new maid... wheeling in a breakfast cart. You could swear that you locked the door.

"Morning, master! I hope I'm not waking you too early, but I wouldn't want you to miss breakfast. I woke up early to start cleaning, and I thought you might be hungry."

As she wheels the cart over to your bedside, you see that she's made a rather substantial breakfast, including bacon, eggs, english muffins, croissants, tea... and a banana. You wonder if that's her idea of a joke.

"So you are planning on working?" you ask, still a little sore about her revalation. 

"What do you mean, master? Of course! I'm your maid, after all," she says, pouring milk into your tea and stirring it. 

"How did you get in?" you ask, wondering why the door was no longer locked.

"Oh, I saw that master had accidentally locked the door, so I picked it so that master wouldn't have to leave bed to open it," she says, matter-of-factly. "I've taken the master key so that I won't waste any cleaning time having to do that again," she says, and you just stare at her, aghast.

"You... picked the... what is that?" you say, noticing that she has one of your mother's necklaces, adorned with a massive sapphire, hanging from her neck.

"Isn't it lovely? I found it in an old dusty jewelry box that I was cleaning. Doesn't it match my hair?"

You think of making a stink about it, but decide against it; you have no use for old jewelry anyway, and if she intends to steal it, it doesn't matter if she wears it while she serves you or not. And it does look good on her.

"Please ask before you take things," you say, and she nods, subserviently.

"Of course, master. From now on, I will ask before I take things," she says, and, again, her wording concerns you. Still, the breakfast before you is enticing.

"This does look good," you admit, taking a slice of bacon and biting into it.

"I made it with love," she says, and you fork a helping of egg into your mouth. You get the odd feeling that she's paying special attention as you eat the eggs... but they are delicious. Although the taste in places is a little...odd. She was definitely a little too heavy handed with the salt. As she stares at you chewing, a haunting thought starts to dawn on you, and your eyes fall on the banana. 

"How is it, master? Please, keep eating."

You swallow, and she giggles. "You... were a little too heavy handed on the salt," you say, having finished the last of the eggs.

"I'm sorry, master. Next time, I'll touch my eggs lightly," she says, and you nod.

You finish the meal feeling quite full, and begin to sip on the tea, which she also seems to watch in rapt attention. The taste is fine, although you do feel strange having her watch you while you drink it.

"Master seemed to enjoy that tea. I'll try to use the same tea bag next time."

She walks away, and, indeed, her panties are visible... as is the bulge in them that makes her a less than ideal maid. As she gets to the door, she turns her neck to look back, leaving her backside visible. 

"Oh, and master, before I prepare brunch... I couldn't find the salt shaker. Do you know where it is?"

"In the spice rack," you say, and she smiles.

"Of course. Enjoy your morning, master," she says, and then disappears from view.

You go about your day mostly ignoring her - she does occasionally come into the same room that you're in to clean, at which point you get quite a show of her bust and rear and legs, but otherwise, her presence is barely notable.

Brunch goes about the same. The salad's dressing is, again, too salty, and you think you hear her snicker as you bite into a bit of lettuce with too much of it and lick your teeth afterwards to get the taste out of your mouth.

This time, she watches you closely as you eat the banana, which you assume is some prurient interest, so you deny her the satisfaction by eating it roughly and quickly. The banana peel itself has abitter scent to it, and is slippery to the touch.

Once you're finished, she takes away your plates and places them in the sink, and then pulls a can of whipped cream out of the refrigerator. 

"I'm sorry if my bottom isn't to master's liking," she says, although you're painfully aware that it's not her 'bottom' but her tail that is most troublesome. "Would master like to have some dessert?" she asks, and you eye the whipped cream incredulously. She starts to bring it up to your lips, and you shake your head. "No? Can I have some, then?" she asks, and you nod. She gently places the whipped cream can in her mouth and sprays some inside,maintaining eye contact the whole time... and a bit escapes from her cheek, and plops down between her breasts. "Oops... I'm so sorry, master... I'm a messy eater. Could you... clean that up for me?" she says, leaning towards you.

It's an enticing sight, to be sure, only diminished by the remembrance of certain... bananas. Still, you lean forward, and she watches with an open mouth, looking down, as you wedge your face between her breasts and lick up the cream.

She pulls open her lace, and sprays a dab directly on her nipple. "Oops. I'm sorry, master... please lick it up," she says, without pretense. Dutifully, you lick around her nipple, cleaning it of cream, and she moans softly.

"Thanks, master. I hope you enjoyed dessert as much as I did. Please look forward to lunch!" she says, and you feel... a little nauseous at what she made you do.

You try to go back to your normal day, but her taunting about lunch leaves you... concerned. Your pondering and wandering leads you to the kitchen, formerly staffed by a dozen, where earlier you heard her using the deli slicer.

You see her, from behind... you can't see under her skirt, but the movement of her hips and her position relative to the counter-top makes it obvious - she's using a sex toy. While you feel a wave of nausea at the idea that she's doing that in the kitchen, it's better that she get... those particular urges out of the way, as you have little interest in satisfying them.

She grips tightly onto the counter top... and then groans loudly. You can feel your arousal... although knowing the actual mechanics of her climax tempers that a bit. Her hips twitch as she sighs and moans and you hear something squishing,as whatever toy she's using becomes in desperate need of a watching. You slip away before she notices you, aroused, and yet somewhat disturbed.

Lunch is a roast beef sandwich. It looks delicious, but only from one angle... from the other, the meat looks oddly compressed, and the bread itself has bent outward slightly.

The cold cuts feel warmer than you expected, and there's definitely an odd taste that you can't place. This time it doesn't taste like saltiness, although there is some of that as well.

"Keep eating, master," she says, wiping your hair off of your forehead as if she were taking your temperature. You feel completely under her spell; trapped. "I worked that sandwich hard," she says, sound sultry, like she did on the phone call that started this all, "and gave it everything I had."

You finish eating the sandwich, and then abruptly stand up. She watches you with a smirk on her face as you walk briskly to the toilet, and there, almost as a precaution, you vomit.

"Is everything alright, master?" she says, after you've finished, standing in the doorway. 

"Did you... did you do something to that sandwich?" you ask her, and her smile looks the same as it always does... but somehow, terrifying.

"Nothing that wasn't necessary," she says, but the reassuring tone of her voice is anything but. "Did it not taste good?"

You don't respond. Instead, you retire to your room, ignoring her as you walk by her, and take an afternoon nap.

When you wake, it's near supper time already, although you're not looking forward to it. You consider cooking something for yourself, but when you arrive by the kitchen, you hear her sizzling, stirring, and chopping supper.Carefully, you sneak towards the door and peak inside. She's made some delicious looking rice dish, and it looks like it is nearly done. She scraps some chopped bell peppers onto the dish, and then begins to tidy up the kitchen.When she finally does pick up the plate, it's not to bring it to the dining room... instead, it disappears under her skirt.

It stays there for a few moments as you watch, mouth agape. You can hear her stroking... something. Something wet. 

"Master... master..." she moans, and the stroking grows more feverish. It's longer than you anticipated before you can hear her getting ready to... finish. "Here it comes... oh... master... the special ingredient... my love... sauce...!"

She groans, obviously in orgasm, and the plate remains underneath her skirt. After a few seconds of bodily convulsions, she pulls her hand out from under her skirt... and there's a sticky, webby substance between her fingers, which she observes with a smirk before wiping it on a hand towel.

"Master, supper is ready!" she calls out, and you slip away into the dining room.

Any hope that she hasn't added her special ingredient to supper is dashed when you see the plate.

"What's the matter, master? That's my love," she says, when you point out the fresh glob sitting, unmixed, atop your rice. She must have intended it as a revelation, but of course, you already knew. 

"Master, aren't you hungry? I made it with my love..." she says, and you feel defeated. She didn't even bother to hide her awful tampering this time. When she picks up the spoon, and spoons up a heap of rice deliberately where the largest concentration of the mystery sauce is, you feel a familiar sensation rising in your throat. "Open up, master..."

You tilt your head away, but she pinches your nose, and eventually, you open up, unable to resist. Into your mouth the spoon goes, and the salty flavor from the earlier dishes is more than apparent. The texture is simultaneously runny and chewy, and the flavor is pure bitter salt. Even if it was delicious, it would be hard to enjoy it knowing she dropped a fat jizz bomb into it.

You finish the rest of the plate yourself, fighting back the urge to spit it out.

"Lick the plate, master," she says, and snickers when you do. Then, she brings out dessert.

It's a green jello mold... immaculately shaped, except for two round depressions and a long channel pressed into the top. When you inspect the depression closer, you see a small, curly purple hair.

"Th-there's a hair..." you stammer out, almost turning green in the face.

"Please eat it anyway!" she asks, but you manage to resist, and you shake your head. Rather than spooning it into your mouth, she relents.

"Alright, master. I'll fix it," she says, taking it back to the kitchen.

You sit there, limp in the dining room chair. Something is wrong. It's not just the contract, it's not just the shame... it's her eyes... something... before you can think it through, she returns with the jello. It still has the obvious imprints, and the hair... but now, the top is now coated... with white, wet, creamy streaks of passion.

"Do you want to eat it now, master?" she asks, smiling 'subserviently' still. You shake your head. "Are you sure, master? I'm only trying to give you what you need... what a spoiled little thing like you deserves..." she says,staring down at you, jello mold in hand. Somewhere deep in your mind, you hear a voice crying out - 'do what she wants'. 'Do it, or you'll be here slave'. It makes no sense. You shake your head, more of a fit of indecision than a true rejection, and her smile becomes all teeth. "Is it still not enough, master? Do you need more of my love?"

She places the jello mold down on the table in front of you, but doesn't motion for the spoon. Instead, she gets between you and the jello. From that vantage, you expect to see her panties... but you can't, because she's not wearing them.She reaches between her legs, and starts to touch something with her hand... before long, you hear the wet noise from before.

"I'm sorry master, give me a moment. Refactory period, and all," she says, and giggles.

It doesn't take long. You hear a wet suction sound as she presses her hips forward, and you watch her smooth, bare ass as she pumps her hips back and forth, defiling the jello, sight unseen.

She pushes the mold forward, bends over so that her entire rear is visible beneath her skirt, and continues to pummel the jello. You can see the dark mass moving in and out inside the mold from that vantage, and your stomach is reacting violently.

"I need help, master. You need to help me," she says as she grabs the whipped cream can. You watch, transfixed, as she reaches behind herself... and sprays a dab of it between her cheeks, right on her little balloon knot. "Oops. Please clean me, master."

Just like before, you find yourself between her cleavage, licking. Her hole responds to your tongue by clenching slightly, and she reaches behind herself, grabs onto your head, and brings it with her as she thrusts down into the jello.She mashes the jello and makes you 'clean her' for what feels like an eternity before her moans start to get... eager.

"Oh, master... your dessert is almost ready... I'll show you how I feel about... oral service..."

You feel her hole twitching... and you can feel her pouch retracting against your chin as she fills the inside of the jello with what is definitely not whipped cream that you will have to eat.

She withdraws herself from the jello. You see the hole she made where she penetrated it... and you can make out the milky goo inside where she impregnated it. She picks up the spoon, and blows you a kiss.

"Now... your dessert is ready... master."

\---

You hug the toilet as if it was your best friend. You remember the taste of the glazing, and especially of the creamy center. You remember the feeling of the purple hairs as they clung to your tongue and slid down your throat.You remember the taste of the whipped cream when she bent over the table and "accidentally" sprayed some more on her hole, to top off the mold. You remember of the taste of what she left on the floor as a result - with no jello,or salad, or eggs to hide it. And you can't keep any of it down.

By dinnertime, you're hungry again, your stomach empty. She calls you into the kitchen to ask you how you like your steak, and you see that she is sitting, bare-assed, on the counter where she's preparing food. At least that's preferable to her fucking the food, you think. You watch as she prepares your steak, and at no point does she introduce her 'special sauce' or make sweet love to it, so you allow yourself to hope that this meal might be one that you get to actually enjoy.

She asks you to wait in the dining room while she brings out the food, and you fully expect that steak is going to get basted with a heaping helping of her goo. You sit at the dining room table downtrodden, awaiting the awful glazed steak that she's about to bring out, or possibly the steak that's going to be flattened by her curvy, unwashed ass. Either way, you don't look forward to it.

However, when she brings out the plate and places it in front of you... it looks perfectly fine. Even on close inspection, you see no purple hairs or imprints that might suggest her special cooking practices. She places a glace of wine and an empty cylindrical glass down, and you stare at the empty glass. She slaps her forehead. 

"Oh, one moment master," she says, leaving with the empty glass. She doesn't walk in the direction of the kitchen, yet returns with the glass, now full of water.

You doubt she filled the glass in the bathroom sink.

Regardless, even if there is a glass of toilet water on the table, the rest of the meal looks fine: steak and string beans. Spartan, but seemingly delicious. You pick up the knife and fork, and attempt to cut the steak...and it's too hard to cut. She watches you try in vain to cut it, smiling all the while. It's been nearly burnt to hell. "It's too dry," you complain, and when you see her face, you know that's exactly what she wanted to hear.

She stands on her toes, bringing her own meat into view, and then plops it down on your meat. Already, it's leaking precum onto the steak, unapologetically. It's the first time you're seeing her 'twig and berries' up close,and you expect it's not the last.

"Is this better, master? Hm? What's the matter now? You complained the steak was too dry! Don't make me forcefeed you again! One way or another, you're eating wet meat," she says, thrusting slightly to fully coat your meat.Turning a bit green, you go to try to cut the wet meat, and she watches you impassively as you do so, still dribbling precum onto it. Once you manage to cut off the first bite, you eat it... it's still overcooked, but slightly softer, and moist in a not-at-all appetizing way.

You continue to put down the steak as best you can, and she starts to rock back and forth, lightly, maintaining eye contact while she makes love to your plate. As such, she produces more precum to coat the steak with... but as she begins to build up a flush of red in her face and breasts, you realize that she might very well be applying her 'special' sauce to this dish as well.

"You better hurry up, master, or you'll have to eat even more protein, and that's no good for you. Your wimpy little stomach can't handle it!"

She licks her lips as she pushes her hips slowly back and forth, threatening to tip the plate over as she defiles your string beans and steak. Her hands never leave the platter that she carried the food in on, so her hands-free display seems to be taking a longer time than her previous food forays, but with the steak as tough as it is, you can't cut if fast enough.

Her sighs and moans become more and more sexual and enthused, and you watch with trepidation as her fully erect cock starts to throb and pulse with a need to convey the sticky contents of her balls onto the contents of your plate.You're halfway through, and your only hope is that the lack of stimulus will make it so that she doesn't have enough to go all the way... but as her eyes lock with yours, and she blows you a kiss, you know you've lost the race.

You look down at her penis, and at what could have been a perfectly lovely steak, and you wait, as seconds turn into hours. In the worst display of the day thus far, the eye of her cock opens, twitching, resting on your half-eaten steak... and then, all at once, a deluge of snot-like liquid spews out of it, pooling onto the steak. It spits several times, each time increasing the amount of steak that is coated in semen, her inedible nut gravy tainting the steak with its salty sliminess.

You watch her penis gradually shrink, although the pool of jizz that it left on your steak remains the same, as it dribbles off the sides and onto the plate.

"It should be wet enough now, master. Please enjoy all my gooey love. I couldn't have made it without thinking about you swallowing every last drop," she says, and that knowledge does nothing to improve your mood. "Oh, but it wouldn't be the full maid experience you deserve without this," she says, leaning over the table, her face hovering over where her cumming cock was just moments ago. With grace and refinement, she gathers up the saliva in her mouth,and spits it right onto the middle of the remaining steak. Then, she reaches her gloved hand behind her, sighs, and produces three baby carrots, which she lays next to the string beans. "Bon apetit, master," she says, her sadistic smile the only indication that she isn't actually being servile at all.

As you chew on the briny, soggy steak, she takes the glass of toilet water and soaks her boyhood in it, giving it a thorough wash. With great care, she combs through her purple pubic hair for loose hairs, and then sprinkles them in the glass, which returns to the table. Then, she picks up the wine glass and downs it in one go. By the time you finish your steak, you're almost delirious with nausea. 

"Thirsty?" she asks, as you stare down the disgusting water glass. 

You shake your head. You can't. You just can't.

"Or... if you want wine, I can put it back," she says, picking up the empty wine glass... she holds it up near her face, smirking, while her gloved finger runs up and down her wet noodle. Slowly, she lowers the glass towards it,but you shake your head, decisively. If you had to choose between a glass of toilet water and a glass that's been used as a toilet, you'd just the former over the latter any day. You pick up the glass of water and tilt it back,spilling a decent amount of it down your shirt as you chug the rest, hairs and all.

Somehow, you keep it all down. You all but pass out on the dining table, and by the time you wake, it's full dark out again. She's attending to the counter and the refrigerator when you come to. 

"Ready for a midnight snack, master?" she asks, without looking at you. She retrieves the whipped cream again, and then, to your dismay, climbs up on the table. With no plates or glasses in the way, she sits down off the edge of the table, directly in front of you, where your meal would be if there was one, and spreads her legs. With all the subtlety she cares to show, she shakes the can of whipped cream, then sprays it down the entire length of her erect shaft, aimed directly at you. 

"I don't... I don't want..." you manage to say, although you can barely offer up an argument at this point.

"Master... you're not thinking about breaking our contract, are you? You do remember what the full penalty was, don't you?"

It doesn't take much at this point to convince you. Whether you obey or disobey... the result seems to be the same regardless. She rakes her gloved fingers across her breast as your lips slide down her shaft, and her other hand finds its way to your head, and the whipped cream doesn't last long.

"See master? I love submission. And soon, you'll love it too... I'll take care of you, master... I'll take care of you just the way you need me to... I think this is going to work just fine... you like my service, don't you master?" she asks,her thing throbbing in your mouth. Not long after you groan a response, she groans with lust, and the taste you've come to associate with her cooking fills your mouth and then some. It sticks to your teeth and coats your tongue,and soon, you can taste nothing but it.

"Glaorughbkhh..." is all you can say. She grabs a fistful of your bangs and pulls you off, and stares deeply into your eyes with that same, strangely hypnotic stare.

"Oh... I was thinking about a raise," she says and the best you can do to protest is to start to spit out the bulk of her runny nutslime. "No? Well, you could wait a few minutes, and then I'll definitely have a raise..." she threatens,and, despite yourself, you swallow the rest. "Thank you so much master! I'll tell you how much it is later. Just between you and me, though, it rhymes with 'trouble'!"

And with that, she dismounts from the table and mounts your chair... until it falls over backwards, and you clatter to the floor. Before you get your wind back, she's squatting over your mouth, and her testicles are resting on your uvula.

"I hope you like my cooking, master. You'll be eating lots of it..." she says, and your vision starts to fade.


	9. Elven Diplomacy

The two human emissaries exchanged in debate around the campfire, the night’s chill having settled in. They warmed their hands and steeled their minds, as although they agreed on the broad strokes of the message they were going to convey, the two were the type to argue endlessly about the details and nuances of their delivery. Now, more than ever before, those nuances and subtleties would play a crucial role in how they were to be received, and as their message was of principal, some would even say life-or-death, importance, there could be no missteps.

Jagon sat a stone’s throw apart from them, by himself, idly whittling down a stick. He watched the way the portly fellow’s chins jiggled whenever he shook his head dismissively, and the way the scrawny one began almost every sentence he uttered with a “yes, but…” or a “that is true, however,” and a flip of his hand. They’d introduced themselves and been introduced, but he didn’t have an ear for names, and they didn’t expect him to be so familiar. They knew Jagon wasn’t their friend. That wasn’t his function. The round-bellied one had a large gold earring and a solid gold tooth, and so Jagon disliked him more. The flaccid one, as he liked to think of him, was the type of person that was difficult to dislike, but equally impossible to like, which frustrated Jagon. He didn’t like grey areas. He could hide in the dark, and knew others were hiding as well, and all dangers were exposed in the light. Despite their differences in weight, the two of them both ate well, and were surprised that Jagon ate so little. The truth was that Jagon didn’t eat out of a bag, like a horse. He ate fresh kills and fresh picks, because only the father of the wilds himself could poison something still hanging ripe from the branch, and he knew what to eat and what to smear on a spearhead. He wasn’t sure if his two travelling companions would know what to eat and what to shit if they hadn’t been born with both an asshole and a mouth separate.

“Sir Jagon, come, sit with us. We need a third opinion,” said the fat one, tapping the tree-root by his side. Jagon would have sooner pushed him into the fire than sat beside him, but he looked up to acknowledge him anyway. “This affects you as much as it does us. Moreso, I’d wager.”

“That’s a wager you’d lose,” said Jagon, pushing off the tree he’d been leaning on to stand up, emerging from shadow into the light of the campfire. “Your reputation is on the line. To me, it’s of no consequence.”

The meek one seemed genuinely surprised by that response. “No… no consequence? Surely, a fighting man such as yourself must care whether we are at war or at peace?”

Jagon sat, not where the fat emissary had offered, but instead a few paces off, not close enough to feel the campfire’s heat, except when the wind blew it towards him. He didn’t like to get too comfortable. “And you think this little trip of ours is going to determine that? I stand a better chance of marrying an elf than you do of making peace with them. If the three of us return to the capital alive, this mission will have been an unexpected success.”

The man he’d been addressing suddenly looked even smaller, and paler. Clearly, he hadn’t thought that Jagon would be so blunt. The fat man, though, was undeterred. “I know your type. You see killers under every stone. The ugliness in all. Maybe you’re the best man to settle our dispute, then. Our man here believes that the elves would prefer isolation. That we’ll divide up our lands, settle all disputes, and with time, the old hatreds will erode,” he said, and Jagon turned to ‘their man’ and scrutinized him carefully. It couldn’t be any more obvious that such scrutiny was the last thing the gaunt man wanted, as he started to sweat and fidget. Jagon decided it; he’d be the first to die.

“And what does your gold tooth think?” he said, to the other man.

“My… why, yes, my gold tooth indeed. I agree that there may be some elves that might simply like to live and let live, particularly the older amongst them. But, there will be, as there are among us, men of pride that will see a peaceful resolution as weakness. Do you not agree?”

He studied then the fat man, and nodded slowly.

“But all men have their price,” he said, and Jagon grinned a mirthless grin.

“You can shower them in gold teeth all you’d like; they’ll melt them down and send your bribes back to you as arrows and daggers.”

“Bribes?” the fat one said, “no, not bribes. I believe the key to a healthy relationship is that it be mutually profitable. Perhaps they want not for gold, but certainly they want for something, and gold and jewels can buy it. Trade may come with its own… complications,” he said, and even Jagon knew that the earliest examples of attempted trade with the elves had been part of, if not the source of the enmity that now existed between them.

“But you’re willing to take the risk?” Jagon said, bitterly.

“We’re risk-taking men, you and I,” he said, and Jagon rankled at the comparison, “although I’m sure you see it differently.”

“I do. And I see the elves differently as well. So long as a single human remains to call himself king of human lands, they will bring you nothing but blood and fire. Our hatred for them is a petty trifle when placed against their hatred of us.”

The thin man now grew emboldened, and Jagon realized that he’d managed to make him angry. “Then why even offer to meet with us? Why extend that courtesy?”

Jagon sneered at him. “Perhaps they’re two heads short of a full set,” he said, the thin man seemed to deflate, and grow even paler, and silent. Jagon tossed him the wooden spike he’d carved.

“What’s that for?” said the fat man.

“We’re in elven lands. It’s always good to have something sharp at hand. They’re listening, even now.”

The fat man looked at Jagon… and Jagon clenched his teeth when he saw the way he looked at him. “Then I pray they are listening to us, and not to you.”

Jagon stood, and he was surprised to see that the fat man didn’t flinch as he towered over him. “Good night to you, sirs. Hopefully, your treaty with the elves will be more pleasant,” he said, and walked back to his fur.

\---

The next morning, they arrived at the gate to the elven city. The thin emissary nearly screamed in alarm when the guards called down to them; he hadn’t seen the gate until they were just upon it. While humans tended to build their castles and cities up on hills, and clear the land for miles around, the elf city was all but invisible until you reached the gates proper. They’d emerged directly from tree cover to standing before a modest gate between two living trees. A smaller gate was beside it. At first, the party assumed they’d be using that one, but then the guard called something out in Elven, and the large gate started to rise.

Jagon had never been inside an elven city before. It didn’t have the hustle and bustle and noise of a human city; it was solemn, almost like a cloister. Part of that could be chalked up to a difference in population, and an older populace. Part of it was that few buildings seemed to have ground level floors, so that the majority of the city was at least a dozen feet off the ground. The guard pointed them in the direction of a staircase that led up to a causeway that split off in multiple directions, one of which was a long rope bridge that led into a small tower connected to a larger structure that could have been a municipal building. Jagon followed behind the two emissaries, keeping his distance. He’d been paid to protect them, but there was nothing he could do to save them now.

The ‘tower’ itself was a cramped spiral staircase that led up and up and up. Jagon took it in stride, and, to his surprise, so did the fatter of the two men. He bellowed words of encouragement down at his frailer companion, who struggled to keep up. When the staircase finally opened up into a larger room, he nearly collapsed on the floor and caught his breath, and the three of them found themselves in… a small, lightly furnished room. Jagon had no doubt that it was where they were meant to go, and that it had some critically important purpose, but the elves never seemed to match the grandiosity of function with the grandiosity of form. In the human capital, the small, quaint room they were in would have been an open, spacious hall, with either a tremendous table or a single throne.

In a moment, three elves entered the room as well, two guards and one dressed in a robe. He looked no older than Jagon, but he was certain he was older than either of the two emissaries. It was possible he was older than all three of them combined. Just as the room was understated, the first elf to greet them was likely of more importance than his modest dress and demeanor suggested. The way he carried himself was anything but modest, however.

“Greetings, strangers. I am an elder. Your negotiations will take place with me. Your names?”

Jagon immediately lost attention. The room had no windows that he could stare out of; had there been, he was sure that it would have been quite a view. When it became obvious that the others were staring at him, he said his name, and went back to ignoring them.

After greetings and introductions and pleasantries were exchanged, the elven elder and the two emissaries took their seats, leaving Jagon and the two guards standing, disinterested. They started to discuss and negotiate in earnest, and Jagon noticed that the two men he’d been travelling with struck a very different tone in the discussion than they had the previous night. The fat one was much more humble, and the thin one was, while still amiable, also considerably more vocal and forceful. The elder barely emoted at all, so it was all but impossible to tell if he liked what he was hearing. After only a few minutes, he held up his hand.

“I find that we want of many the same things. Before we discuss the finer points, I’d like for my own emissary to be present. Is that acceptable?”

“Your… emissary?” said the thin man, half-intrigued, half-stunned.

“Yes. If you truly wish for a lasting peace, then men such as yourselves will one day need to act as ambassador. I am inviting you to stay with us for a time… and so that we may reciprocate your gesture with an emissary of our own, who will survey your capital and its people and return to us with an elven perspective thereof.”

Jagon wondered what that ‘elven perspective’ would be. Something like ‘the capital: a refuse pile and its people: refuse.’ But he held his tongue. If the elves wanted to reciprocate with their own scouts and spies, it was only fair. The two emissaries exchanged a look, and then nodded their heads.

“We accept your generous invitation, and consent to the addition of another voice at this table,” said the fat man, genially. The elder turned and told the guard to send for ‘Lilah,’ and one of the guards disappeared through the threshold they’d arrived from.

Almost immediately, the guard returned with a young woman behind, with pale green hair tied up. If there was any indication that she was younger, it was that she wore jewelry, and also that when she saw the two emissaries, she smiled pleasantly before returning to a more placid expression.

Jagon didn’t pay her much mind. He was somewhat amused by how she held herself, similar to the elder, with a sense of power and grace, because to Jagon, she was hysterically petite and feminine, if… a bit more full-bodied than other elven women he’d seen. She took a seat as well, and joined their conversation, though she did more listening than speaking. Jagon didn’t bore easily, but as minutes turned into hours, he began to wonder how the elven guards stood so still without fidgeting at all.

When the two emissaries got up, Jagon snapped back to attention, ready to follow them to wherever the elves deemed to keep them, but the fat one’s eyes met his and he gave Jagon a knowing look. He approached him and shook his hand, and Jagon knew that something had been decided without him.

“This is where we part ways, I suppose. I can’t say you were particularly pleasant company, but you do your job well, and I can respect that,” he said, and Jagon finished shaking his hand, and released it.

“I was hired to keep you safe…” he started, but the fat man interrupted.

“Until we got to the elven city. Here we are. Now, you’re free to return, and I daresay you’ll likely have fairer company on this trip,” he said, with an enigmatic smile, and excused himself, leaving the room through the same archway the elves had entered through with his meeker companion. That left Jagon alone with all the elves, and he didn’t like that at all.

“Well, my services are no longer needed here. I’ll just let myself out,” he said, sardonically, and turned to leave, but the elder spoke.

"She'll accompany you back to human lands. Be certain he doesn't come to harm," he said, looking to Lilah. Jagon sighed. He expected as much. It bothered  
Jagon that she was expected to keep him safe, and not the reverse. She looked frail, and light of frame... but then, all of the elves did. He'd had the displeasure of fighting elves before, and the relative lightness of their blows was deceptive; if needed, they could put a great deal of force into them. They just didn't exert themselves more than they needed to. And, of course, it was impossible to catch one off guard, which meant more in a skirmish than his human companions ever wanted to admit. They'd guffaw about how elves need to ambush and skulk around to win engagements, but the reality was that an opponent that would never fall for a feint or become unbalanced was nearly unbeatable. Nearly. Elf blood was appropriately pale.

He looked to his would-be travelling companion. Elves couldn't be trusted; their treachery was a matter of course. The saying wasn't "expect an elf to betray," it was "an elf at your back is in waiting." He had no doubt he could overpower her... but that was little use to him if he needed to sleep. Whole platoons had been laid to waste in a single night, every throat cut, no alarm sounded, no casualties repaid. If they were going to force him to travel with one of their own, alone, the whole venture was moot. They had their hostages, and the humans had nothing. Extending an offer of a peace had been folly, and  
his original companions were going to die for it. But not he. An elf may be able to slit a throat without waking her prey, but he knew that even if she woke, it would only take a few moments with his hands around her neck to crush that petite windpipe and travel the rest of the way alone, likely with a tail of avengers and little chance to outpace them.

She nodded, somewhat impassive. A doubt lingered in his mind. Why wait? Why not put them down now, while they were unarmed? Perhaps she didn't want to drag his body all the way to the capital. Then again, she only needed to show the head. Or maybe he would make it back alive, and she would deliver her message of their gratitude for surrendering captives right into the elves' waiting hands, and then make her demands. But, then... would she not be seized? Two for one... even elves knew how to count.

She watched him, silently. He couldn't place her expression. The elves were notoriously difficult to read. Despite her paleness, there was the faintest hint of red; her face lightly flushed. Annoyance? Or outright hatred? He couldn't be sure.

"And will I return with her, with the reply?"

"That will not be necessary, unless it is your will. Lilah can return on her own."

"Can she? Very well. While you wine and dine my compatriots, we will make haste to the capital. Although it would be quicker if I travelled alone."

"And who would convey our message? I was to understand that we are engaging in dialogue... she is not being sent to declare a proclamation." So he says, he thought. "Lilah will not be a burden, I assure you."

Jagon didn't like his tone of voice. It seemed to suggest that he would be the one to slow her pace. Typical.

“I will leave it up to you if you wish to depart now or wait for morning. So long as you are within our borders, you will have safe passage… but it may be more comfortable to spend the night here.”

“I’m no creature of comfort,” Jagon said, an edge to his voice that spoke more than words. “But I thank you for the invitation.”

The elder nodded, but didn’t see it necessary to respond. He merely turned and left the room, leaving Jagon and Lilah alone together. Jagon had been casually glancing at her, but now he focused his full attention on her. He didn’t like what he saw. Well, most of him didn’t, anyway. She had a haughty look about her. Proud. The way she stuck out her chest… which was large for an elf, or a girl her size, he noted. Her smile curled into a smirk when he looked at her, and he didn’t see what was so funny. Her face seemed to imperceptibly redden again.

“Does something amuse you?”

“No, it’s just that I’m…” she said, before stopping herself. “Fair warning. Elves can detect even the slightest motion of the eyes. Or ears, but you can’t move yours, can you?”

He wiggled his a bit. “Not really.”

She stifled a laugh. “Yes, well… you just did it again, didn’t you? I suppose you don’t have control over it.”

“Control over what?”

“Your eyes… wander,” she said, failing to look him in the eyes as she said it.

“Oh. Apologies,” he said, though he was somewhat irritated that she’d even noticed. Damn elves.

“No need to apologize. I… well, the elder described to you the arrangement. Do you want to stay the night?”

He exhaled gruffly. “There’s still light in the day. And I don’t mind travelling at night if need be.”

“We can see in the dark—” she tried to helpfully chime in, but was interrupted by his glare.

“I know,” he said, curtly. Damn elves.

“Oh, well… we can leave whenever you’re ready. We don’t have any horses, but they’ve left supplies for us in the—”

He patted the scabbard affixed to his belt. “I have all the supplies I need. I imagine an elf such as yourself is fine travelling light, as well?”

She blinked. It might have been impossible to catch an elf off guard in combat, but conversation was another thing. “We can go out the way you came,” she said, after a pause. Immediately, he turned to leave, and didn’t bother to turn to see if she was following. He descended the spiral staircase, passed two guards, crossed the bridge, descended the outside staircase, and only then did he turn around, noting the distinct lack of footsteps following him. He nearly knocked her over, but she retained her balance, and their faces were inches apart.

“Damnable…” he said, and realized it would be… unfortunate if he finished that swear in present company. “Why are you following so close?” he said, taking a step away from her as he gestured.

“Do… do you normally change directions so capriciously? You didn’t hear me?”

He pointed to his ears emphatically, then to hers. She seemed confused by it… although anyone would be confused by someone gesticulating wildly about their head. “You don’t have footfalls. I can’t even hear you breathing.”

“Oh. Well, we could carry on conversation, so that you’d know where I was by the sound of my voice.”

“I’ll pass,” he said, resuming his march towards the front gate. Again, he couldn’t detect her presence behind him at all, but was confident she was following closely anyway. His suspicions were confirmed when, as if the sound had come from nowhere at all, he distinctly heard her humming. He ignored it.

Lilah waved to the guards and the small gate was raised. When he passed through it, it closed behind him, and for a moment he was about to draw his sword, as he’d assumed that they’d locked him out without her, but when he turned, hand on his scabbard, she was again right behind him.

“You stopped humming.”

“I was talking to the guard. You didn’t hear us?”

He found his eyes wandering… to her throat. How easy it would be to throttle the stupid elven life out of her. “No, I did not.”

“Well, now that we’re out of the gate, I’ll lead us.”

She tried to walk past him, but he blocked her. “I don’t remember deciding that.”

“I… thought it was obvious. I know the way, and I can sense danger much more easily than a hum—”

“I’ll lead. I’m a tracker by trade. I can follow my own trail back.”

“I… I must insist…”

“Must you?” he said, exasperated. “Fine, then. Until we leave elven lands, you lead. Fair?”

She nodded, and he let her pass. He turned to follow her… and found that his eyes, once again, wandered. For the negligible amount of sound her footfalls had, her hips swayed considerably, and her poise was impeccable. It was if she was going for a stroll from her bedroom to the foyer, even though they were under tree cover almost immediately. Even following directly behind her , he found himself pushing wayward branches and leaves out of his face, and carefully avoiding pratfalls and underbrush and roots, but she didn’t seem to break her stride at any point.

“You are… very loud,” she said, turning to look at him, her face reddening again when she did. “Might I suggest watching where you step, instead?”

“I would hate to be an elf,” he said, and tried to hide in his expression how much truth that statement had lurking underneath the surface, “your menfolk must have it rough.”

The redness of her face approached human levels for once. “Our… social mores are not quite the same. Were you not a stranger, and human, it would be…” she lingered.

“Acceptable?”

“D-desired,” she said, perhaps a bit too firmly. “If it makes you uncomfortable, you can lead, and I can hum again.”

“Or you could sing elfsong,” he said, without thinking. ‘Elfsong’ was what the humans called the elven prayers that could sometimes be heard carried on the winds… it was an ill omen, as it was sometimes the only warning that the elves would descend in the night to slaughter or ambush. It was a… loaded term, to say the least, but if she knew the connotation, she didn’t show it. Instead, she nodded.

“You would love my song. Shall we switch?”

“No, we had an agreement. If it doesn’t bother you, it doesn’t bother me. You can sing when we reach the borderlands.”

She agreed silently. He followed her for some time, the sun peeking through the trees getting warmer and warmer in color, until they reached a river.

“I don’t remember seeing a river on our way here. Have you taken a different path?”

“Slightly, yes. It will converge with the route you likely took when we continue in the morning, but I thought this would be a good place to make camp. It’s a small forested island, and there are no native inhabitants.

“Are there… inhabitants elsewhere in the forest?”

“Yes. Haven’t you seen them?”

It was his turn to blush. He nodded. Of course he’d seen them. Every last… however many of them. “Those were residents?”

“Mostly, though a few of the inner border patrols also passed us. Or, we passed them. They rarely move.”

If that was said of human guards, he would know it meant that they were a stationary guard, rather than a patrol. If an elf said it, though… they might very well never move, stuck in a tree somewhere, unblinking.

“If you aren’t going to murder me in my sleep, I suppose I don’t mind camping out together.”

She looked at him sharply. “I hadn’t been considering it, but you make a tempting offer.” She barely raised her tone of voice, but it was noticeable, given how pleasant her normal tone was.

“It was a joke. A little black humor. It’s a human thing.”

Her expression was still ever-so-slightly… well, pissed off. “Don’t lie to me. You meant it.”

He was almost taken aback, but he felt anger flaring in his chest. “And what if I did? Can you blame me? I’ll be defenseless when we go to sleep. Or when I go to sleep, anyway, if you even do need to sleep. You could cut my throat and claim I was lost to the wilds.”

To his credit, his hand instinctively went to his scabbard, but it would have been too late, anyway. A few birds nesting in a nearby bush took off with squawks and protests when the sound of the slap echoed off the nearby tree.

“Apologize,” she said, firmly. He grit his teeth.

“Apologies, my lady. I have been unkind.”

“You will come to no harm. I… apologize as well, for striking you. Now, if we could put it behind us, we need to cross this river.”

He looked up and downstream, and into the water. “How? It’s too deep to wade, and I’d have to abandon my epaulettes if I wanted to swim, which I don’t.”

“There’s a small vessel on the far side that fits two.”

“There’s a boat… ashore on the deserted isle? Perfect. Maybe you can convince a bear to cross over with it.”

She walked to the shore. For the first time, he noticed that her feet were bare. Were they always? She pulled at her sash, causing her gown to part slightly.

“What are you…?”

“You may fear to leave your armor behind, but I am not so encumbered,” she said, and suddenly became much less encumbered as she pulled her gown off her shoulders. “It is your choice whether to watch the cruel elf bitch disrobe or not. It is… customary in human lands to look away, is it not?”

He averted his eyes, keeping her in view in his periphery. Whether it was distrust, a genuine desire to see her naked, or mere acknowledgment that she came from a culture that didn’t think he should be perturbed by it, he wasn’t sure. His eyes taking another opportunity to wander a bit suggested a mix of the second and third. She dropped her waistcloth and with it her skirt, and then she stood, fully nude. Evocative tattoos covered part of her body… proof that she was, indeed, a ranger. Her breasts were, as he suspected, large for an elf, and her waist was small. She was lean and fair, and he hoped she had no way of sensing when a man had an erection in his pants. She undid the clasp in her hair, letting it fall down to her waist, gave him a cursory glance, and then dived into the water. She was surprisingly swift in the water, and he soon lost sight of her. He walked over to her clothes and picked them up, and then saw her emerge on the far bank, wet and glistening, her hair dripping. She reached down into the sand… and overturned a small boat, hidden just underneath. She tied its anchorage around her waist, pulled it into the water, and then dived again, and he waited for her to emerge on the near side.

When she did, and he saw her with her hair down and her breasts dripping, he was finally confronted with the fact that whether or not she was an elf, she was a woman. And he had her clothes.

She approached him, a bit of redness in her cheeks, and asked for her sash. “I can use it to dry, since we didn’t take any washcloths.” He handed her the sash, and she rubbed it on her body until she was mostly dry, though her hair made drying her back impossible. “Thank you. My clothes?”

He grinned, and held them out of reach. “How much are they worth to you?”

Her ears turned bright red. “I… I will not suffer this indignity lightly…” she started, as furious as an elf could look.

“Alright, alright, here, before you swear an oath of vengeance.”

“I’m beginning to think that cutting your throat was the best idea you’ve offered thus far.”

“You… can’t. You’re unarmed. I see that now,” he said. She blinked. “That’s why you were so upset. You don’t have a knife hidden anywhere. You had no intent to attack me. I’m sorry.”

“Y-your apology is accepted,” she said, tying her waistcloth around again, and pulling up her skirt. She was still topless, however, when she stepped closer to him… and then leaned in even closer so that her breath was on his face, and her voice surrounded him in its warmth, her lips curled into a sly smile… and he felt a sharp object pressed against his neck. “…but an elf always has a knife.”

He stayed perfectly still, until she pulled it away, and hid it wherever she’d gotten it from.

“Y-you…”

“Had no intent to attack you. You were correct,” she said, pulling on her gown. “It is more important that you trust me than that your assessment of my weaponry be accurate. You can rest assured that I will only slit your throat if you again try to shame me without my consent.”

He grinned, and walked over to where the boat was anchored. “And with your consent?” he said, climbing in.

“That…” she said, turning a bit pink. “We should cross, it’s almost nightfall, and the crossing will be perilous in the dark.”

“I thought you said that elves can see in the dark?”

“Nevermind what I may have said. I’m trying to push from our minds what you have said,” she said, climbing into the boat as gracefully as possible. Sitting across from her in that tight space, as she tied up her hair and he smelled the water on her skin… that, and his raging erection, made it difficult to push from his mind. He reached for the oars… when he realized the boat didn’t have any.

“Ah, yes, even if the boat is seized, the island is still inaccessible, unless you know the secret,” she said, and reached out over the side of the boat into the water. “It’s just… a little difficult.”

“What is it?”

“There is a vine that grows from shore to shore in something of a lattice. It makes swimming dangerous, as well, but it can be used to pull the boat across. But, we may need to find a stick to cast the boat off while we’re inside of it, or… one moment.”

She got down on her knees and used both hands, and was able to get the boat moving. This put her in a position that made it much more difficult to push what he’d suggested from his mind, as she wiggled her butt in his face, the somewhat wet fabric making it nearly see-through. She continued to strain and tug the boat along, and he resisted the urge to stare directly at her, just as he had when she was fully nude. In the close proximity, and the relative overtness of her pose, it was even worse.

They were out into the water, and she continued to tug them along, her elfish backside in his face all the while. A battle raged in his mind unlike any he’d fought before, the champions of decency and human morality fighting a bitter feud with the reavers of arousal and the elven “eh, go for it,” ideal. Of course, if she reacted poorly, he might very well have a dagger to his throat… or even worse, an awkward silence for the remainder of the trip. Eventually, he convinced himself that if she wasn’t doing it intentionally, the gods had decided to test him, and it wouldn’t do to disappoint them by passing for once.

With all the care and lightness of touch of a hunter intentionally springing a bear-trap, he decided to test her reaction… by gently laying his hand on her rear. To his somewhat surprise, somewhat lack-of-surprise, she didn’t react at all, at least not in any perceptible way. He pulled his hand back and laid it on his thigh, next to his overzealous sword, and the metal thing in his scabbard. He was so focused on the idea of sheathing it that when they made groundfall, he nearly yelped in shock. She turned around and sat back into the boat, sighing with relief, having accomplished an arduous task, and he studied her like she was going to put a dagger to his throat. After a moment, she caught her breath, and gave him an almost imperceptible look for a fraction of a second, during which their eyes met, and there’s no language in which the look they exchanged means anything else. After that, the moment passed, and they both disembarked while continuing to chat… but he knew that, unless he said or did something terrible, the night’s campfire was going to burn long, casting shadows on two figures that could easily be mistaken for one. It had been simply put aside in the immediate sense, but it was only a matter of time before one of them picked it up again.

And it almost was immediately, as he took her hand to “help” her from the boat, and she “fell” into his chest, and her hand “accidentally” confirmed for her what his eyes had already said. She smiled, apologized, and led him deeper into the island, where they’d make camp.

“As I said, there’s no one living here. It’s rather secluded. It’s actually something of a sacred place… but our god doesn’t mind if we tread on it,” she said, and he was sure that ‘treading’ on it wasn’t all her god was fine with.

“Do you need to… pray, or bless, or anything?”

“Yes, when we make the fire. Burning wood is…”

“A sin?”

“More of an act that requires permission.”

Again, he was certain that there were other acts that fell into that category that she failed to mention, but he didn’t say anything. Eventually, they arrived at a relative clearing, a good place for a campfire, with low uprooted roots for sitting.

“Here’s where we usually make camp. If you hunger, almost everything you might try is edible.”

He looked to her. Was she doing it on purpose? It didn’t seem that way. “Would you… like me to catch something? Or fish?”

He rubbed his temple when he realized that he’d done it too, unintentionally, if not very artfully.

“If… you wish. I won’t have to eat much on this trip, but if you want to share your catch with someone, I won’t decline.”

There are plenty of things you don’t need to do, he thought, but then pushed that from his mind. “I’ll set up a trap for morning, then, and just sample what’s here. Any creatures around here… sacred, or anything?”

“The dryads, of course. But I doubt your trap will catch one… or that one will reveal itself to you.”

Strange, he thought, I remember one revealing herself to me just before. He looked up at the canopy, and was surprised to see that there was a diffuse light coming through, despite the sun having almost certainly set.

“Will-o-wisps,” she said, as if reading his thoughts. He hoped she couldn’t read his thoughts, anyway. “They’ll go to sleep when they see we mean no harm to the forest.”

“So this is what they mean by an enchanted forest, huh?”

She gathered up some twigs and leaves, and knelt before the pile. “It is not enchanted… merely divine.”

“What’s the difference?” he said, plopping down opposite her, glad to be off his legs.

She lay her hand on the pile… and it started to glow, and then, suddenly, catch flame. “That,” she said, while he looked on in amazement.

“Magic?” he said, and she nodded. “I thought… I thought that was a fairy tale…”

“It certainly is a tale about elves… it just so happens to be true.”

“Then… why have I never seen…?”

She looked sullen. “We would never use it… for war.”

They sat in silence. He let slide the tacit assumption that he’d only really interacted with elves on the battlefield… because it was true. To break the sudden spell, so to speak, he changed the subject.

“Is that what you do? Are you a… mage?”

“My function… is manifold. You humans speak of ‘elven rangers,’ but the truth is that all elves of the city are trained in defense of the realm. An elven ranger may be a potter, a baker, or a cleric.”

“It is… not so different in human lands. Although there are men that strictly work as freelancers or in a king’s military or the constabulary, the majority of our armies are conscripted.”

“I see,” she said, seemingly uncomfortable with the topic, although it was still difficult to tell.

“Outside of your work as a diplomat and ranger, then, what are your other ‘manifold’ functions?”

“For one, I keep house.”

“Are you married?”

This time, her ears turned red. “No… there is a gap in language… I am responsible for my father’s estate. I manage the day-to-day duties of a dozen or so elves working there.”

“Ah. Is that… difficult work?”

“Sometimes. Seldom. They are all hard-working, so it is only in… difficult times that my work as manager is difficult.”

“And what do you do elsewise?”

“I… help at… what you would call an ‘orphanage,’ to find suitable parents to adopt the younglings. It is something we do communally, as the parents are owed a service.”

“What kind of service?”

“They are… orphans of war.”

There was an awkward silence. He couldn’t tell what she was thinking, but he could tell what he was: there was a very real possibility that at least one of those orphans was orphaned by him.

“So… you don’t do magic… as a calling?”

“No… it is a gift, but one seldom used within the city. It is only in holy places, such as this, that I use it.”

He nodded. He didn’t really understand. The fire crackled lightly, and he remembered something she’d said. “Your father’s estate… why doesn’t he run it? Is he…?”

“Dead? No, not so much. The elder you met with is my father.”

“Oh. I didn’t catch his name.”

“The elders… do not have names. They forsake them when they take up the cloth. It is why you humans sometimes refer to an elf’s ‘true name’. It comes from… a misunderstanding.”

“What kind of misunderstanding?”

“There is a saying among elves… that knowing an elder’s true name gives one power over him. It is meant to say that though the elders seem implacable and wise, they are but elves, and they carry with them the folly and prejudice of their former selves. Being able to invoke this, say, if you were a member of their family before they became an elder, gives you the power to remind them that they are not infallible… all children believe in… I believe you called them ‘fairy tales.’”

“So even the wise may be… unwise.”

“That is the meaning, yes.”

“Do you think your elders have been unwise?”

“In reciprocating war? In declaring blood vengeance against our human kin? Yes. I believe they have.”

He closed his eyes. The emotion that came to him wasn’t a pleasant one. It wasn’t an epiphany, one that lifted the spirit and fed the soul, just a dull thud in the pit of his stomach that comes with the realization that you have long-believed something terribly, terribly wrong. He tried to bury it; it was useless to think of it now, but his conscience wouldn’t let him bury the children like he’d buried the parents. He tried to think it away, and the more he touched it in his mind, the more it hurt, and the more it hurt, the more he couldn’t help but touch it, like a child picking at a scab. Lilah noticed the tears in his eyes… before he did.

“Did I say something to upset you?”

He wiped his eyes. “Yes, but rightfully so. I… thank you.”

“I don’t know where this gratitude comes from, but… if it please you, I’ll accept it.”

“I’m just… I'm used to elves being a bit more... arrogant. And racist.”

Her lip twitched a bit in anger. She was starting to show a bit more emotion than before… though not the kind he’d like to see. “Well, that's certainly astute of you. We elves certainly are all arrogant and racist.”

“Er... that was kind of stupid, huh?”

“It's fine. I'm accustomed to humans being ‘kind of stupid’,” she said, and smiled. He laughed; he hadn’t expected her to make a joke. When no one else laughed with him, it occurred to him that the two of them were alone… and it was very unlikely that anything was standing in the way.

They exchanged another look in the midst of their pleasant conversation, and he knew for certain now that between her thighs was a moisture in waiting. Just like his rigid steel, her little elven hidey-hole was already going through the motions, waiting for the rest of their stupid bodies to catch up to the fact that it was already happening.

He stood, and she watched him demurely, her legs to her side, an elegant pose. He approached her, until he was standing over her, and she looking up at him.

“I am… still unsure. But, if you wish… I will not say no.”

He offered his hand, and she accepted it, and he pulled her to her feet, and again, she “tripped” into his arms. Before she could speak, he’d kissed her, and she’d returned it, and nothing else mattered at that moment.

She was content to let him hold her… for a moment, and then she pushed him over, so that he nearly fell over a high root backwards. Instead, he oriented himself on it so that he was sitting, and pulled off his shirt. As if by magic, when he pulled it away from his face, his elven companion had likewise disrobed entirely, with a swiftness bordering on impossible. She allowed her loose tunic to fall from her shoulders, and he saw, quite clearly now, that for an elf, she was very well proportioned.

“Was my nude form pleasing to you? I could sense your lust… but I worried that you saw me as an elf, not a woman,” she said, looking slightly embarrassed.

“A woman you are,” he did say, before adding, “and… you can sense my lust?” She approached him, falling gracefully to her knees before him. From that position, it wouldn’t be difficult for anyone to sense his lust. With careful precision, she removed his trousers, so that his arousal could no longer be hidden, if he attempted to hide it at all. Sitting on a tree naked, however, was more than a little uncomfortable. When she noticed his discomfort, she placed a hand against the root, and something changed.

The tree felt... soft. How useless elven magic could be... but he had to admit that it was comfortable.

Her hands roamed along his body, sensually touching his legs, his thighs, his abdomen… and, as if it were any other part of him, she wrapped her soft palm around him, the lightest of touches. She gave him a bit of a devilish look, and then licked at the tip, before taking it between her lips, into her mouth, if only for a few seconds. He had a hard time gauging her experience; she seemed confident enough, and it felt heavenly, but she seemed slightly more restrained than she normally was. When she stood, he saw that she was moist between her thighs, ready to begin their (blasphemous?) carnality. She climbed on top of him, which did surprise him, and brought her face close to his.

She had a meek smile on her face. She seemed nervous. "W-well... if I am to... m-mate with a member of an inferior species... it w-would only be proper if I were on top, yes?" she said, trying to sound flirtatious as she slowly, carefully dropped her weight on him, although they weren’t quite ‘aligned’ properly yet.

"Elves are... really light," he said, as if noting it in surprise. "Too light," he said, pulling her strongly onto his lap. With her legs spread, he felt the warmth of her little elven womanhood press up against his abdomen, rather lewdly wet, but he pushed that from his mind (as difficult as that was) when he realized she was trembling at his touch. He relaxed his grip on her waist, gently laying his hand on the small of her back, and as she cast her stare down at his chest, he put his finger under her chin and lifted it so that she'd look at him. "Have you... never been with a man?"

"Man nor elf... no..."

"Will... will there be problems for you if your first time is with... a human? Because, we can stop..."

He was interrupted by her kiss. He should have expected that reaction... his abdomen was soaked, and he could feel how warm she was. Again, he tightened his hold on her waist, confident that it was what she wanted.

“No…” she said, as their lips parted, “elf or human, it makes no difference. If you will see me as a woman… then in my eyes, you are a man,” she said, reaching under herself to grab hold of his manhood, guiding it towards her womanhood.

“Wait…” he said, feeling the wet beads of her anticipation dripping down his shaft as she pressed the two of them together.

She smirked. “Perhaps you'd prefer to do it... elfish style?” she said, pressing him instead against her other hole, and he felt her squeeze the tip of it. So it was true what they said about elves, he thought. Still, he shook his head.

“No, not this time...” he said, and took her hand in his, pressing himself instead against her virgin cunt, before pulling her body forward, closer to his. She wrapped both of her arms around his neck, and they kissed above, and below, and when their lips again did part, and they looked into each other’s eyes, the kiss below persisted. He wasn’t sure if he began to push his hips upwards, or she began to push hers downwards first, but the result was the same: one fewer elven virgins in the world, and one more interracial coupling. He felt her body’s resistance gradually subsiding, and she felt him pushing inside, filling her. She hadn't lied about being a virgin, although her maidenhood was fairly easy to push through. Whether it was because she was an elf or a ranger he couldn't say, but it seemed to cause her no more than a passing moment of pain.

And with that, any barriers, physical, emotional, or metaphorical, came crashing down. There was something intense about it despite how… restrained she was actually being. The times he’d gone whoring, the women were pleasantly loud, their movements wild, their rutting animalistic (and often from behind, as would be appropriate for most animals). Staring into her eyes, watching her lips press together, and then slightly part in an inaudible sigh, proved an irresistible contrast to the ferocity and urgency that was taking place below their waists, as she repeatedly dropped her weight down onto him and he fucked up into her with the rigidity and force of a man… possessed? But he knew no spell had been cast… no more than the spell that a man has cast upon him by a woman, anyway. With no point of reference, he wasn’t sure if she’d leaned forward or he had, but their lips touched, her eyes still focused on his, and he felt her press herself against him, her hips moving slightly as she took the entirety of his cock inside of her, his hard, stiff shaft buried in her yielding, wet sex.

He grabbed hold of her legs as they straddled him, and as she tried to pull herself upwards so that she could continue bouncing, he pulled her back down onto it immediately, causing her to, for once, respond emphatically, gasping at the sudden reintroduction of the last inches of his phallus into her. She regained her composure, smirked, and went to resume again, but again, he pulled her legs towards him, and she found herself fully-fucked. Her eyes went wide, but again the smirk returned, and she tested him, pulling up slightly, without any real force, but he held her tightly. She moved her hips in a circle, grinding against him, and he waited for her to try to pull him out again. They watched each other, hunter and prey (although which was which could be argued), until he felt her trying to rise again, and immediately responded, pulling her downwards. He hadn’t expected for her legs to have as much strength as they did, however, and as a result she nearly pulled herself off of him completely… which meant that in the span of less than a second, he felt her pulled nearly off of her cock, and then slam back down on top of it, so that he nearly lost control of himself. He let out a surprised, contented, groan, and he saw her trembling breath as she recovered from it, as well. With his grip on her relaxed, she started to pump up and down almost immediately, building from that sudden spark towards an even larger, satisfying conclusion. The downside to this was that he, too, was getting ready to fill her up with freshly squeezed human juice, and he wasn’t sure how she felt about that.

Suddenly, her eyes went wide, and she slowed to a near-stop… although she continued to grind against him subtly. Still, the change of pace was jarring.

“What’s the matter?”

“You were…” she said, and he suddenly felt under siege.

“I was not. I was about to warn you.”

She blushed. “No, it’s… I’m not upset. It’s just that I can sense…” she started, and he opened his mouth, so she put a finger to his lips. “Not that. My mother told me... and I feel it now... an elf knows. I'll..." she hesitated, and he already knew what she was going to say. “It will be… fruitful.”

He tried to look magnanimous. "So... is this how half-elves are made? I guess I never really thought about it," he said, with a smug smile. She shook her head.

"Please... don't leave me to raise a child..."

"Alone?" he suggested. She nodded. "So should I... pull out now?" he said, and he slowed to a stop. He could feel her pulse, the warmth of her skin, the smell of her neck... the tears that dripped onto his chest, and the point somewhere between them that neither of them wanted to pull away from. "Or... should I make some new living arrangements?" he said, bouncing her once very powerfully in his lap. She gasped.

"You mean...?"

"Can you tell if it'll be a boy or a girl?"

She looked stunned... and then she gave him a warm smile that felt like spring. "I... a girl... er, I think."

"Well, we'll find out, won't we?"

He gripped onto her legs again, and she smiled warmly. Her lips parted in a soft moan, which seemed to surprise her, so she kept her mouth closed as she started to ride him again in earnest. She shook her hips and he felt up her body, her thin waist and ribs, up to her breasts, down to her firm elven behind. She leaned forward and pecked him on the lips, and he responded by roughly pulling her forward and forcefully kissing her, making her body shudder. He felt her tighten up and tense up, and she pulled free of his kiss and breathed in short, suddenly frenzied breaths. He wanted to keep fucking her but this time she wouldn’t let him, pressing them almost painfully together, while he tried to pull her off of his cock at least a little. She pinned him down with her hips, however, and he felt her pussy squeezing him even tighter as her body shook and shivered… and he realized she was on the verge of cumming. With all the strength he could muster, he pulled her upwards, as she had before, and she immediately drove her hips down, burying his human cock to the hilt in her baby-making hole, all the way to the cervix. He realized she’d been tickling her cervix with the tip, and the sudden intrusion of his entire cock back into her was more than enough to break the dam.

He had the expectation that elves would be, well, wild, but her orgasm was rather subdued... she stayed in place and shuddered, and became incredibly tense, particularly in a certain place... and he realized he wasn't going to have a choice about whether to hold out any longer. With a surprised moan, he let it out inside of her, more than a little excited by the idea that he  
was knocking her up. When she felt the sudden warmth inside, she pressed her hips down onto him, forcing him as deep inside of her as he would go, and stared him in the eye. He wondered if she was making sure her little prophecy came true... what an odd sense of pride the elves had. With the amount he released, though, he didn't doubt her. Gravity alone wouldn’t be enough to keep it from filling her womb, shot after shot, while her legs pinned him in place and his arms pinned her in hers. Her pussy convulsed and felt so hot as he exploded inside of her, filling her sticky, wet, elven hotbox with his (apparently) potent man-cream. With her legs straddling him, locking him in place, and her gaze locking their eyes on one another, he inseminated her womb. Her bare breasts lay against his chest and he could feel her heartbeat, and her his, with a curt smile on her face while he made a mess in her womanhood.

The cum that seeped between her swollen lips was nothing in comparison to the corked inside by her tight seal. He felt a moment of regret, looking at the young elf woman that was to be the mother of his child, apparently, but it quickly passed. He’d done more reckless things on a dare. No woman had made him feel like this… tricks of the sex trade aside. She was as strong as he was... and in some ways, stronger. But so fragile…

They lie there, panting, gazing into each other's eyes in almost mute surprise, with his cock still in her pussy, and no rush  
to change that arrangement despite them both coming down from their respective highs. He realized that he plugged her snuggly, and that his cum was boiling inside. She adjusted herself a bit to get more comfortable, but apparently his cock being pressed against her cervix wasn’t uncomfortable, because she didn’t adjust that. He urged her slender neck forward, and she relented, meeting him in a soft kiss. When their lips parted, he could see that her cheeks were as rosy as any human woman’s.

"D-did you... mean what you said?" she said, her hand on his chest.

"What if I didn't?" he replied, smirking.

“You promised,” she said, the sternness in her voice utterly undermined by her shaky schoolgirl wavering voice. When she took a second to read his smirk, she smirked back. "Then... I would be... as you humans say... 'fucked.'"

"Well, fucked you are, alright. But... yeah, I'm staying. As tempting as it is to put one in a cute elf girl's belly and run," he said, and felt her tense around him, and then narrow her stare, "I think it'd be more fun to put a few more while I'm at. Guess I'll have to wait a long while for that, yeah?"

"We elves do have... very long pregnancies, yes..."

"I can wait," he said, and saw her blush intensify again. “Besides, won’t you be staying in the capital for at least a while?”

“No… I need to return with your leader’s answer. We don’t want to keep your emissaries hostage for too long.”

His eyebrows raised. “Hostage? Well, I’m sure they’re at ease, knowing that if anything happened to them, you’d be seized,” he said, holding tightly onto her waist.

She smirked. “I’d like to see you try,” she said, and then pressed the blade gently to his throat. Her words from earlier were clear in his mind: an elf always has a knife…

“You…” he said, stunned, momentarily afraid, before she dropped it aside. “You still don’t trust me?”

“I dropped it, didn’t I? Trust is earned… you of all people should know that. I do not think a prideful man such as yourself would let me come to harm, no matter what your leaders decreed. Am I wrong?”

He became acutely aware of her walls squeezing his cock. He still wasn’t sure how much she was bedeviling him… was her ability to sense conception also a lie?

“You… don’t have to trust me. If you wish to stay in the capital, I will not protest.”

“And if I leave you to raise a child alone, will you plunge a dagger into my heart?”

She leaned in close to his face. “No, but you’ll have done so into mine. I won’t harm you… you should know that by now. Guilt, on the other hand, as you humans say…” she smiled pleasantly.

“Do you think an elf could guilt me?” he said, smiling back.

“I do. Elsewise I wouldn’t bare your child,” she said, leaning forward to kiss him again. “You are a kind man; I believe it.”

He grew solemn. “I’ve done… terrible things. Do you believe that, as well?”

She nodded. “Good men can do terrible things in the name of good... but you are honest when you say they are terrible things. Do you believe you have done another terrible thing?”

He thought about it for a moment, staring down at her abdomen. She followed his gaze, and then looked into his eyes, and watched. “No. This is good,” he said, and she smiled.

He grinned, and then pulled her on top of him, so that her head was against his chest, although he stubbornly refused to pull his cock from her slit, so they were still messy there, for at least a little longer.

"You really... are light," he said, feeling her body pressed against his.

"See? Elven girls are the best," she said, and tilted her head up to look at him, and he felt the hot, sweet smell of her breath, and then the sweet taste of her lips, and the subtle squeeze of her little elfish garden... and he had to agree.


End file.
